


Take My Shelter, I'll Be Your Hearth

by Unnethe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Auralism, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, BDSM, Bratting, Come Marking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Devoted Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Dominant Ben Solo, F/M, Fancy Ben & Clothing-Optional Chaos Gremlin Rey, First Time Blow Jobs, Food as Love Language, HEA Guaranteed, Hair Braiding, Masturbation, Minor Leia Organa/Han Solo, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Naked Female Clothed Male, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Paige/Kaydel, Possessive Ben Solo, Praise Kink, Rey & Rose Tico Friendship, Rey's big borcatu energy, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Sexual Tension, Size Difference, Size Kink, Snowed In, Soft Dom Ben 'let me take care of you damn it' Solo, Spanking, Subdrop, Submissive Rey (Star Wars), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, bisexual Ben & Rey, financial caregiving, major fantasy weather event survival to friends to lovers, mention of pregnancy (minor character), mid burn? then trash fire, minor Phasajj (making this a thing damn it), online grocery shopping: horny edition, they were lockdown roommates, with his 'firsts' kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unnethe/pseuds/Unnethe
Summary: [A soft, smutty Daddy Dom story]Wealthy barrister Ben B C Solo believes his careful, ordered life suits him just fine and his dominant proclivities are best kept free from intimacy—Until a life-changing, snowy encounter with vivacious student Rey Kanata before a Hothstorm stay-in-place order.He can no more leave her stranded than he can resist how her sunny chaos thaws his softer side.Rey isn’t quite sure what (in her limited experience) is soveryappealing about this taciturn man or his insistence on helping her through the lockdown, but she’s got her pyjamas and snacks— it’ll befine.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 121
Kudos: 288
Collections: Queerly Beloved Reylo Fics





	1. Severe Weather Warning: Delays Likely

**Author's Note:**

> I will update tags as relevant. Please check them before each chapter. I also add potential CW to each chapter's beginning notes.
> 
> This is the kind of soft, kinky, Daddy Dom romance I wanted to write after weeks of country-wide quarantine lockdown.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The strident Imperial accent resolves through a flurry of white ahead into a small gesticulating figure… Her smile like sunshine, like some beckoning horizon._
> 
> _But Rey is relying entirely on his hospitality in this storm, so Ben forces himself to make a very firm and abstinent decision about his immediate future. The universe is testing him. He’ll just look after her. That’s all._  
>  \----  
>  _It’s fine, that baritone is just going to ask her things, and she's definitely not going to answer ‘please Maker, bend me over a table, I’ve been content with the company of my hand after that last bungled hook-up but you’re making me reconsider, and what’s your conditioner if it’s not too much to ask?’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Ben has negative self-talk about his scar

Benjamin Bail Chewbacca Organa Solo drives carefully, though still at speed – he is Leia’s son but _also_ Han’s – down the wide but winding Coruscant-Chandrila Regional Highway 1 in his sleek, black Mustafar-Blistmokz AMG.

It’s been a tiring two hour journey in the increasing snow already after a scrambled, mid-morning meeting in Republic City. Urgent details of an environmental law case, before both metropolises shut down completely with a shelter-in-place order ahead of a violent Hothstorm. 

Of course, he muses as the car enters a section of forest, the meeting ran over into time allowed for another appointment, and there was no chance to find an acceptable lunch.

Acceptable was not how he would describe the selection in the cafe at the bottom of the firm’s Spire Tower office. He makes a mental note to inquire about their lease.

Ben huffs; he likes his weeks planned out, his clients punctual, and knowing all things in his self-contained life are up to scratch – which includes regular meals and being able to actually attend his quarterly full medicals.

Order; in work, mind, and body.

His careful routine is how he gets things done at all rather than being swallowed for hours by a good book, and forgetting to eat. 

He presses his full lips together with an ominous sense that the knock-on effects of this storm disruption will be far reaching.

‘[Bulls on Parade](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3L4YrGaR8E4)’ fades out to ‘[Local God](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7m7CMIdUV0)’, but Ben’s standard playlist (as distinct from his second equally careful gym curation) is only going so far to keep him engaged and composed with at least two more hours still to drive in these conditions.

His very early start is catching up to him; predicting he’ll greatly miss the outlet of his gym he made time for one last morning workout. But now he needs to focus, to get home before the emergency lockdown begins shortly after sunset. The dense but distinctively eerily quiet lightning balls illuminating the sky far, far in the distance are a reminder that this decade’s worst promised electrical weather-front is fast approaching.

Ben wishes fervently for caffeine. Sending up a prayer to see if Yiayia Padmé’s Elder Gods might take pity on his non-practising soul.

He’s had none since a quick post-gym flat white with Hux in a Papanoida, his friend providing a sympathetic ear but notably having pleaded out of the inter-office himself.

Ben, however, likes to keep tabs on their more remote staff.

It would not be unanticipated to assume that a man saddled with such an extensive name would grow up to be chinless and rather follicularly unfortunate, but this has never been the case.

If anything, Ben would describe himself as excessively angular and… _distinctive_ in looks.

With a fatigued sigh he runs a pale hand through his dark waves and rubs at an ear. The former worn with care and longer than is typical for his position, in large part to cover what he considers the excessive growth in childhood of the latter.

He’s layered much over that gangly, sensitive, and awkward child. Some of it genuine confidence and growth, and some having learned that people respond better to a hard veneer, and a bespoke suit.

The charcoal fantabu cashmere he chose this morning for driving comfort sits unrumpled on his large frame thanks to deft hands and expert canvassing, and even if Ben wanted to break with his tailor (he assuredly does not) it would be hard to find options that fit.

He hopes too that these layers detract from the scar, the reminder of painful history, on his jaw and cheek— but he believes this is unlikely.

* * *

Ben is still thinking irritably of a double espresso and excessive future rescheduling when he rounds a blind corner, thankfullyat a mindful speed.

There’s barely time to brake and swerve before he’s clipping the front corner of an extremely orange hunk of battered metal that appears to be roughly in the shape of a car.

Regaining control swiftly and with a burst of appreciation for his father’s defensive driving instructions, he skids to a snowy halt ahead – narrowly avoiding trees and breathing heavily.

His mirrors show the damaged vehicle jutting into his lane but pointing in the wrong direction, with another far more healthy and newer car pulled in by its side. 

_Bet dad would love that kriffing orange piece of shit_ , the thought follows unbidden in his pounding head.

He steels himself and counts his breaths, fiddling tensely with the Cormond red gold and krayt pearl face of his Brentaal’ling Hypertimer IV. The small glinting flamegems marking the hours warn him time is elapsing.

_Game face on. Exchange details – calmly, Solo – and get home. That’s all I have to do, then this day will be over_.

As he straightens his tie and steps out into the snow— buttoning his jacket, swinging on his pewter wool overcoat and flipping the collar against the cold; _armour up—_ he hears a strident Imperial Region accent.

“Alright mate keep your hair on! No need to throw a tanty, your bumper is _barely_ even dented—”

The voice resolves through a flurry of white ahead into a small gesticulating figure in profile, squaring off against a larger, hostile and red-faced man.

She’s wearing an impressively lumpy and aggressively spotted purple jumper. It renders her cosily shapeless from the waist up, and Ben’s eyes flick to her slim, jeans-clad legs leading down to worn winter boots.

She pauses, mid gesture, staring at him as he approaches. Her small, pink mouth slightly ajar in what Ben presumes is now her wrath extended to him.

Ben’s own car only has corner damage to the paintwork, engineered to withstand more punishment than her stationary rust-bucket can give, but that seems less important now with the scene playing out in front of him.

So he sets his jaw, draws himself up, and moves to professionally diffuse this deteriorating situation.

As he strides forward with a curt nod in her direction and confirmation he has insurance, the posturing driver of the other car takes a further step into her space and says a word that makes Ben’s hand clench. He hears her sharp intake of breath.

Squaring his body between them, he rounds on this stuffed eyesore of a green and yellow windbreaker.

“ _I Wouldn’t_.”

Ben’s voice is calm and low, but intimidation is a familiar pair of gloves he can still pull on when necessary – and the driver wilts in close proximity to a bigger man. 

That sort of bully then.

Ben narrows his gaze, offering his withering full attention and a business card with a brusque flick of his wrist. He waits until those dyspeptic eyes have bulged at _Benjamin B. C. Solo. Solo Scyre and Hux. Hanna City, Republic City, Cloud City, Theed_ , and doesn’t ask his name.

“Can your car still drive?” he asks coolly.

The man splutters, “Yes but—“

“Then I suggest you _do so_ rather than behaving threateningly toward a lone young woman, with an Officer of the Greater Zone Courts as witness, hours away from full Hothstorm movement restrictions.”

“Well!“ the man huffs, “I don’t see why I should just leave when that bi— _she_ hit my—"

“You should _just leave_ —” Ben is icy, quirking his head toward the angry sky— “because you have no alternative. I suggest you check your phone reception, aside from urgent services being quite busy elsewhere today. Take this lady’s details and go. I’m sure you have somewhere else to be.”

The monstrous windbreaker puffs— and then deflates, levelled with a flinty Solo eye.

He turns on his heel without even glancing at the woman, and as Ben predicted, drives away without issue. 

“You’re a lawyer?” asks a light voice.

She’s watching him carefully with piercing hazel eyes, now he can really look at her, tucking a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. Her lightly tanned skin has a faint and flattering flush.

“Environmental practice currently, but he didn’t need to know that.”

He states this flatly, but she laughs, wide and vital, and— _Oh_ — it lights up her face.

Like sunshine, like some beckoning horizon.

Ben’s carefully restrained temper from recent events softens and drains away; it’s an unmooring sensation, his chilly intensity is usually a reliable shield.

He’s staring, he knows he must be, and his face has probably settled into the attentive inscrutability often read as a scowl.

She shuffles nervously—

He shoves out a hand, still unsmiling. “Ben Solo.”

When she takes it he jolts with what he swears is a spark, and she’s looking a little bewildered too, blinking down at her small, warm hand engulfed by his own.

Her head is barely level with his chest, hair pulled half up in a messy bun. And that solar, toothy smile. He sees it again as she looks up through her lashes, a more youthful shyness replacing her previous self-assurance.

“Solo...” she breathes, and his name in her mouth feels like an unintended reproof; he’s never felt this conscious of being solitary.

“I’m Rey. Rey Kanata.”

Ben shakes himself.

“ _Rey_. Pleased to meet you. Apologies for hitting your car,” he gestures, years of legal experience viz. admitting fault apparently gone.

“We’ll get it off the road. Are you uninjured? Did he— put his hands on you?” Ben adds thickly, tensing.

“No, thank you for stopping, and I’m fine. I didn’t think that wanker would ever be done carping on, Rosie says I really need to learn when to tactically withdraw. This was a wreck well before you were involved – and I’ve no bars on my phone!

“I guess technically it was my fault with him, but my wipers haven’t been working properly and he didn’t have to be such a prat about it. Your car seems fine, thank fuck, I doubt I could afford those repairs. I’ll get the handbrake!”

Ben has no reply before he turns to press his weight against the bumper. He’s too busy staring at her wrinkling, freckled nose.

_Adorable. It’s— she’s— adorable._

Rey watches as he quickly shoves the lightweight vehicle to safety on the shoulder. (Poorly made. He scowls at the idea of her navigating these conditions in this thing.)

_If the accident had harmed her, or the argument had escalated…_

Her face flushes, and she rounds angrily on the crumpled and very elderly orange car. Ben’s chest is tight as her voice quavers.

“Maker, I’m supposed to be in Coruscant to spend the lockdown with my sister. Uni housing hasn’t reopened— I’ve been couch surfing— this is a bloody nightmare! There’s no time now— no idea how I’ll—"

* * *

“ _W_ – _what_ , are you having a laugh?” Rey takes a step back toward her door, rigid.

Ben scrubs at his face, authority quickly replaced with agitation. Why had he blurted out that offer? Why is he committed to making it again? His skills do not lie in going off script like this.

“That came out _very_ wrong. Stay with me, is what I meant. I will not leave you stranded here like this, it’s too dangerous, and I’m in a rush. You _must_ be somewhere safe within the next couple of hours. I’m aware this is— unusual. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t a crisis situation. I’m not in the habit of making such offers to unknowns, believe me.” 

_And now I may have offended her. Good job, Solo_.

“ _Please_ ,” he adds more softly. “Be my guest.”

“Oh— you don’t have to do that. You’ve been very kind, but I don’t even know you! It’s a lot of trouble. You can just drop me off at one of the mass safety shelters, if there’s one on your way…” Rey worries her bottom lip. It looks soft.

“This probably won’t last too long!” Her voice is falsely bright, resigned. 

“Absolutely not!” Ben retorts, then calms himself. “No, it’s fine. Those shelters are crowded. Rey, you may not get a bed this late. And this isn’t going to be over quickly; I’ve been through a Hothstorm in Chandrila before. You could be weeks surrounded by _Elders know_ how many people in a dormitory. Whereas I have a lot of space, supplies. Two spare rooms, and I’m using the study for my work.”

He presses on, barristerial certitude bleeding in.

“You won’t have to be around me all that much. Give your friends and family my details – my business card, licence, kriff, I’ll video chat them with you for security. I crashed into you and made this worse, I’m _responsible._ ”

Ben’s eye twitches at the legal hole he’s apparently committed now to digging but his brain is fixated on seeing her safe.

“We can’t get assistance for your car, everything’s already shutting down. I’ll worry the entirelockdown if I make you go to a shelter at the last minute when I can provide an alternative. Rey, say it’s also selfishness for my peace of mind as much as for you. _Join me._ Please.”

Ben surprises himself by smiling down at her then. Wide, genuine – and disused.

Her open expression draws it out. He really does care what happens to this captivating woman.

Rey looks stunned for a moment, he’s not sure why, but her eyes have been fixed on his lower face. Maybe she’s just staring at his awful scar.

She considers, still wary but warming, eyes softly searching him.

But she must feel ok about something she sees.

“Alright,” she answers a little shakily.

“Ok. Yeah. Thank you, Ben. That does sound a shitload better than the shelters, and I’ll like some company without being swamped by people… and I’ve got all my boxes in my car so can we take them with?”

Ben nods mutely, flooded with an unexpected level of relief. Like he’s swayed a hostile jury; reluctant now to say anything to make her change her mind.

“Um, right!” she continues, voice brightening in a way he finds he likes.

“I’ll definitely send all your details to Maz... my foster mother! And Rosie, my foster sister, we were closest in age and always shared a room. And probably my friend Finn too but then he’s stuck away where the internet and phone service have been terrible. Don’t go to a remote holiday retreat with your boyfriend before a freak Hothstorm!

“Though I guess with the ‘freak’ element that’s hardly something they can be blamed for. They probably have enough to worry about aside from me... I mean I’m twenty-four, but they’ve gone all old married couple already. No, I don’t think I’ll bother them about this... but definitely the others.

“Can we grab my boxes now? All my new uni stuff is in there, oh and I’ve got some shopping too! Rosie will miss her resupply of chocolate… I suppose it would be impossible to store groceries in a communal shelter anyway. It’s getting worse out here already, right?”

Rey heads toward her possessions, and Ben, dumbstruck by the sudden deluge from her information floodgate, can only follow in her wake.

He’s so astonished by this abrupt departure from his usual attitude to house-guests, or large last minute changes, or impromptu social situations as a whole, that he’s mostly unaware his eyes have become glued to her pert behind.

Her manner is so unlike his own reticence. Yet Ben finds he’s entranced, drawn to gather and remember all her details.

Her family – she was a foster child? His professional background knows what this can mean. But she sounds close to those around her now.

And she’s at university – studying what? He’ll have to learn.

And she is… _twenty-four_. This gives him pause.

Rey is attractive. Very, if he’s honest.

He drags his eyes away from her swaying hips as she stomps through the snow in front of him.

There have been others, though fewer than many apparently expect. Mutual physical arrangements rather than romantic intimacies, built around his consensually dictatorial tastes and particular desire to take care of, to provide. Those partners have been varied in almost every way.

But apparently now he has a type, discovered today in a two foot snow drift while awaiting dangerous meteorology. It involves the perky figure and freckled features he’s trailing behind, feeling a little lost.

In different circumstances he’d think about buying her a drink in a quiet bar and see if she was interested too. Make an effort with the Solo charm he has evidence he does in fact possess in some respect, despite his guardedness.

However, not only is twenty-four ten years younger, Rey is vulnerable right now and relying entirely on his hospitality.

Ben Solo might have had a few Bad Years as his mother refers to them (his father has more colourful terms) with his former – disbarred and incarcerated – mentor at that awful firm, after all the fallout from Uncle Luke’s cult phase. But he’s been raised right with respect to women – you only have to meet Leia to know why – and has a lot of expensive therapy under his belt to boot.

He’d done things he isn’t proud of, in that job, and still worries a great deal about taking advantage of people; being somehow rotten, still _too much_.

Jaded, he’s been called. Misanthropic.

So as they ferry bags and boxes between Rey’s little orange monster and his new model Kyber-Class while she bounces and chatters at him, Ben Solo forces himself to make a very firm and abstinent about his immediate future. He’ll just look after her. That’s all. 

_Luke_ , he thinks bitterly, _would be proud_. The universe is testing him. All he’d asked for was workplace punctuality, a decent sandwich, and some caffeine. 

**************

Rey hoists her last bag and wrestles with BB’s rusted boot lock, giving one final melancholy look and her farewell.

Trotting after Ben she snaps a picture of the back of his car – odd number plate KYL0RN – taking a moment to openly admire its tinted windows. Its dark, aggressive design.

And then its similar owner.

Styled sable waves that spill over his coat collar. The loose swagger and wide, tailored back that had stepped forward to shield her as she’d realised she’d perhaps bitten off more than she could chew, and pushed BB without rumpling a perfectly turned lapel on that rather large chest.

Her belly flutters.

_R’iia, his car probably cost more than my whole tuition_.

“Kai… lorn?” Rey attempts, screwing up her face.

“Uh, no,” replies Ben, flushing above his precise tie knot and quickly passing her a weighty, embossed white card and another of government-issue plastic.

“Moff’s Counsel, huh?” Rey bites her lip, humming. “Emita Tower... Bet you’ve got a corner office, monstrous walls of windows and all!”

She’s teasing… but also curious.

Ben raises a dark eyebrow, intense against his winter toned complexion, rubbing his jaw where she notices a thin, faded silver scar running from his collar part way up his cheek. On his angular face it’s a very masculine look.

“Senior Counsel perks, if that’s what you mean. The view’s pretty good.”

Oh— a fleeting smirk. His eyes she’d been so struck by. Moody, dark, and shot with amber when the light hits off the snow.

And that brief flash in them of something warmer, she feels _that_ in her throat.

Right, then. She’s agreed to stay with this smirk, on Mr broad, broody, walking Platinum HUTT Card who became very apparently not another arsehole at all once he started talking to her.

Likely a week or more of suit and size and _hair_ and lips.

_They’d cover mine, they’d be warm and soft and—_

_Large hands_. He’s got to be at least 6’3”. Rey’s not short but she feels small compared to Ben Solo; he’s on a somewhat different scale.

And, _oh R’iia_ , voice. Low and rich and almost monotone in a way that works.

It’s fine, she’s _fine_. That baritone is just going to ask her things, totally normal things, while trapped in his house together for an extended period of time, and she’s going to have to answer ‘yes certainly’ and ‘thank you very much, I do hope it’s not too much trouble’ _._

Definitely not ‘please Maker, bend me over a table, I’ve been content with the company of my hand after that last bungled hook-up but you’re making me reconsider, and what’s your conditioner if it’s not too much to ask?’

Rey’s sure Benjamin B. C. Solo, C.Moff, is a very busy man, and by the looks of things has much more expensive and mature tastes than she can compete with.

At best he’s being very tolerant of her dangerously stranded position and isn’t interested in some student shag, she chides.

_Be grateful for his help and don’t embarrass yourself_.

* * *

Heated somewhat by the lifting and her swirling thoughts, Rey wiggles out of her favourite jumper, lovingly knitted by Maz (though she’s growing a little near-sighted these days).

Ben’s eyes immediately snap to the front of her ratty, too small shirt.

_Bollocks, bet I’ve spilled sauce on it again._

Predictably it’s very nippy out, so maybe removing any clothing wasn’t the best idea, but Rey runs a hand over her chest, now with concern, to check for food.

Ben swallows visibly, wets his mouth, and that faint scar jumps. He jerkily indicates to the passenger side of his still near-pristine car, and as he steps to open her door – ok, that's nice – she notices the label on his coat sleeve. Mon Cal’Armani. 

_Bloody hell_.

* * *

Rey messages Rose with one bar of reception as blanketed hills and snow-covered trees fly by, curled into the black leather seat with heater vents angled on full.

She’d already become distracted (common for her) by the attractive person she’s with (not as common).

_rosie don’t freak but here’s # plate, bizcard & licence of BDE who just saved my dumb arse in crash_

_can’t make coruscant but am safe & uninjured, BB may b totalled though :(_

_explain more later. sorry love miss you_

Ben is silent but she’s eager to get him talking despite her prior nervous babbling; she’d listen to him read the Corellian Shipping News, although surely this man has interesting things to say.

“So where are we going? Is it just you? Any flatmates or girlfriend or boyfriend? Pets?” 

He says nothing for a moment then scoffs derisively. “No it’s been a long time since any of those, and I don’t think my parents’ ancient Lothwolf-hound counts. I’m just the occasional babysitter. My place is in Upper Hanna.”

“Oh, _nice_. I’ve always wanted an Alderaanian corgi, they’re adorable arseholes and crack me up,” she cackles. “Bastion’s queen has six and they keep biting people on the bum, no one can do a thing! So... does that mean you’re bi?”

Ben coughs, a surprised sound.

“Sorry, I’m a nosy bint I know! I’ve been told I have ‘big feral energy’, that’s by my friend Poe.” Rey laughs unrepentantly, eye rolling with air quotes.

He makes a small wheeze.

“But I am, too. Bi. ‘Sexually fluid chaos gremlin’, apparently. ‘Fun-sized disaster raccoon’. That’s from Rosie!”

Ben’s mouth twists, and he answers hoarsely. “Ye-es, actually I am. With my billable hours recently I haven’t been, uh, looking. My nonna had two of those corgis. She was Alderaanian, mother’s side.”

Rey fixes Ben with her full attention, sensing she’s receiving the extrovert’s miracle: personal information wrung out of a reserved soul shortly after meeting.

“And temperamentally arseholish?” she asks.

A beat.

“The dogs, the dogs! _Good Maker_ , not your blessed nan! Obviously!”

Ben exhales a stifled laugh, and oh she _loves_ that. He looks shocked himself. 

_More please_.

“Yes, I believe they were. And my nonna _was_ a saint.” A smile flickers at his lips.

“One bit my dad on the arm then went for a lower and more vulnerable goal, so he says, when he and my mother were first dating. Claims he had to fight them off with a socket wrench he thankfully had on his person... He’s big into mechanics, commercial pilot for years until he retired. Now just bangs around inside small planes, leaving grease stains where they annoy mom.”

Ben adds this this by way of explanation, then shoots her a disbelieving glance.

“Apologies, ah— I’m really not used to sharing this much information about myself.”

His scowl turns soft and almost disorientated for some reason when Rey flashes him her most encouraging grin.

Well, she knows better than anyone that family can inspire complicated feelings. 

* * *

Ben’s driving is cautious but of a decent speed, taking the increasingly snowy road with practised ease and headlights – although the daylight is only beginning to dim.

His open suit jacket rests against large trousered thighs that flex with every press of a pedal, seat set far back, and his expression is deep in concentration. Rey feels she’s in careful, if fancy, hands.

“So— Kanata,” says Ben gruffly, like he’s searching for something to say. “Uncommon surname.”

“Yeah it’s Maz’s; Takodanian. We decided I’d take it cos I didn’t have a proper one when I was placed with her, just an ugly Imperial Government placeholder.”

She sighs with the opposing memories of feeling like a nobody, then the joy when after a time Maz had held her hand and made that offer.

“Oh— I’m _sorry_ , Rey, I—"

“Don’t be,” Rey smiles softly at his serious face. “I’m glad I found a place and people of my own.”

“Me too— for you. I’m glad,” he says huskily.

There’s an intense, quiet moment before, “And dare I ask about your car?”

“Oh, BB! Full name BB8 cos if you look under the paint scratches it was once bright yellow, and it’s definitely not got an 8 cylinder engine!” she chortles. “I don’t think Avtomobil Droidvos _ever_ made a V8 the entire time they were in business! Poe’s dad drove BB at university, it’s so old, and I got it for a song.”

“Not free?” offers Ben, flashing a tentative, crooked smile, and he seems relieved when she laughs again.

“Watch it mate, BB gets me from A to B! _Got_ me. Hopefully will again when this is over. I might give some repairs a go myself. I’ve always liked fixing things, you know? Doing something with my hands.”

“Definitely like my father,” he hums. There’s another stretch of silence.

“My mother helped create the safety shelters for disaster events, as part of her old portfolio. Great idea, but that’s how I know about their, uh, long-term stay drawbacks.”

Ben offers this up as if to balance the conversational scales.

Rey furrows her brow, thinking—

“Wait! _Leia Organa_ is your mum? From the Ministry for Social Development?” she almost shouts, and Ben winces. “I’ve heard a lot about her since I arrived here. Popular woman!”

Ben’s lips pull ruefully.

“Yeah, though she’s supposed to be retiring soon. Reactions like that are why I don’t use Organa in my name professionally. Don’t get me wrong—” he answers Rey’s troubled look— “I love my mom and support her politics, it’s just a lot. That name. If I used it, it would always enter the room before I did.”

“Fair. I know something on the other end of the scale about being pre-judged. You’re an interesting man, Ben Solo,” Rey hums appraisingly.

Studying his intense features, the large nose and moles that somehow fit well together.

* * *

Rey peers around her seat in the light after a long, dim tunnel.

“Oh is this button for seat heaters? Nice! Not going to freeze my tits and bits off in here, thought I would back there arguing!”

Ben makes a small throaty noise, white knuckling the steering wheel.

“You really saved my arse in more ways than one!”

“Don’t mention it, please,” he replies thickly.

“You seem tense, the driving conditions are getting worse, right? I’d offer to switch out, but, well… don’t want a repeat of earlier. Can I help you relax some other way?” Rey chirps.

Ben shoots her a startled glance, his broad shoulders tense.

“Uhh...” He clears his throat deeply. “Uh, what do you—"

“You know, like ‘I spy’, or I’ve got loads of different snacks. Chocolate? I suppose we can eat all Rosie’s stuff now too.”

Rey hears a shaky release of breath as she rustles around, and proffers a bag of pretzels for a long moment before Ben takes some hesitantly. She narrows her eyes. Is he one of those suspicious non-snackers or just somehow not hungry?

_Who doesn’t like Trammistan chocolate-dipped extra salted pretzels? Well, we could be together for a week or more so that’s plenty of time to show him the light_.

“Oh, I know! Twenty Questions! We’re going to be spending time together so it’s a good start. How about we play it in reverse, each tell each other 20 things about ourselves. I’ll kick us off!”

Ben releases a long breath and taps the stereo touchscreen. ‘[Everything To Everyone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1vQJFF2TKQ)’ starts playing, but he gives a mollifying lip quirk before his features again turn solemn.

Alright, she’ll leave him be for now.

_He’ll talk, I’ll warm this brooding mountain of a man right up._

Her phone buzzes.

**Booo Reyrey! SO glad you’re ok tho, love you xoxo**

**I’ll need to size him up, threaten him a bit. No axe murdering on my watch! O_o**

**So what’s Mr B Solo C.Moff, blood type O-, status: donor’s kidnap vehicle of choice?**

  
_love you too. black musta amg_

_hngh it is NICE_

_getting crumbs on his leather seats oops_

_but my arse is being pleasantly warmed_

**Well damn. Already looked all BDaddyE.**

**Is the mega scowl just mugshot? Live your best life WINK WINK**

_noooo i can’t gotta not be weird_

_needs more smiles :’(((_

_he smells so good tho, like $$$MAN_

_it’s v v annoying_

**Lol oh honey, did you expect AXXILA spray rubbing off on that upholstery? My sweet bb.**

**We’ll video chat lots**

Rey's face heats and her stomach flutters at _something_ Rose wrote, though she can't put her finger on what or why.

She’s silent – save the crunching of pretzels – for as long as it takes for ‘[Hurts So Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4dOsbsuhYGQ)’ to move to ‘[Karma Police](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbCOAPR33ME)’.

After time looking out the window at lengthening shadows and falling snow, this is as much patience as she can handle before she’s shifting in her seat, focus back on Ben.

“Ahhf, I fee yooof are a man ooof musical tafftes,” she states happily through bulging cheeks.

He seems tired, but tolerantly resigned. Fortunate for them both; it’s hard for Rey to stay quiet, or still.

“You like them too?” he asks with an incredulous expression.

“Yeah, I’m not _that_ young, mate, and the lead singer is from Jakk-upon-Treath, that’s my original home town. Though we just called it Jakk’u.”

Ben can’t hide his wince.

“Yeah, good old Jakkers was a right shithole,” she agrees. “But it gave us this!”

“And it… gave us you, too.” Ben’s deep voice is quietly, unexpectedly sweet. Such a contrast to the forceful lawyer.

Rey’s throat catches on salt and she has a powerful urge to just reach out—

“I hear it; same accent. I listened to them a lot during some... rougher patches a few years back, so they’re always bittersweet.”

Then he huffs, embarrassed. “Music can be exposing can’t it?”

Rey hums, appreciative of what Ben is offering up. “So how old are you then anyway?”

“I’m... thirty-four.” Ben’s Adam’s apple bobs, he glances at her.

“Oh around Poe’s age!” Rey chirps happily. “Have you always lived in Chandrila? I’ve only been here a few months since I started uni. Thank fuck for student housing, the flats are well out of my league.”

“Yes I was born here. I’ve lived elsewhere but kept coming back, and now my main office is local. Are you studying full time?”

“Environmental management—” that earns an interested noise— “I started uni… late. And I worked for a bit cos I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I got a scholarship but I’ve been doing part time work in a second hand goods store. Well, before this Hothstorm anyway. Just sales and fixing things up.

“But the owner’s a bit of a wheeler-dealer, little guy with huge ears and smokes so much I swear his skin is almost green. I’ve been wanting to find something different anyway. I think I’ll give him the flick. Pay isn’t great, and I think there’s some weird shit going on there too. But it’s under the table so I’ll just stop showing up— oh bollocks, I probably shouldn’t be saying this to you!”

Ben chuffs a small amused noise. “I’m not working in that area of law anymore, I’ll keep your secrets.”

His full lips pull up more decisively at one corner and Rey feels her pulse speed up.

There’s some of that smile again, on Ben Solo’s face it’s magnetising.

“You did different work before?” She latches on to any detail he shares, needs to tease it out.

“Yeah. Criminal barrister, five years over in Korriban. Wasn’t— wasn’t a good time for me. Refocussing was my clumsy attempt at redemption I think. Turned out to be fulfilling though.”

He swallows roughly, his expression in profile darkening.

“I didn’t like the person I became, and eventually it was me or the job. I’m glad it was the job, though it didn’t feel that way at the time.”

“I am too,” murmurs Rey, watching his silhouette pass under flickering shadows in the growing twilight, very aware her time shut in with him will soon begin.

_He’s very caring, but I think he always knows what he prefers or doesn’t. What would he be like as… Well, not like it’ll be relevant to me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben will take Rey to his apartment and they'll platonically pass their time in a chaste manner while appropriately dressed for winter... bless. ❤️ Thank you for kudos and comments ❤️
> 
> [Blistmok](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Blistmok).
> 
> [Ben's car inspiration](https://www.mbusa.com/en/vehicles/model/e-class/sedan/e63w4s), an AMG E 63 S Sedan but make it Sith.
> 
> [Republic City](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Galactic_City/Legends) AKA Galactic City AKA City of Spires in the EU.
> 
> Yiayia – grandmother; I’m envisaging Naboo as being similar to Greece.
> 
> [Elders of Naboo](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Elders_\(Naboo\)/Legends). A stand-in here for a pantheon-like set of gods.
> 
> [Fantabu](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Fantabu).
> 
> Rey's car inspiration is... [the noble early model Lada](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:1980_-_VAZ_2101.JPG#/media/File:1980_-_VAZ_2101.JPG) (though not built like a tank or in good repair, sorry BB). Han would tear it up in a Lada.
> 
> [Ben's wristwatch inspiration](https://www.breitling.com/nz-en/watches/navitimer/b01-chronograph-46/AB0127211C1/), a Navitimer B01 Chronograph 46 but a fancier red gold version.
> 
> [Brentaal in the EU](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Brentaal_IV/Legends) (capital: Cormond), with massive trade guilds. Makers of fine timepieces and sundry luxury items?
> 
> [Krayt pearls](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Krayt_dragon_pearl/Legends). Revan was a fan.
> 
> [Flamegems](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Flame_gem).
> 
> Phasma [Scyre](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Scyre).
> 
> [Loth-wolf](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Loth-wolf). Here I imagine them looking more like [Irish wolfhounds](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Irish_Wolfhound_Sam.jpg#/media/File:Irish_Wolfhound_Sam.jpg).
> 
> Nonna – grandmother; I think of Alderaan as a bit like Italy.
> 
> [Trammistan chocolate](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Trammistan_chocolate).
> 
> [Axxila](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Axxila/Legends). Smells like teenaged Physical Education classes I guess.
> 
> Treath is a place name meaning sand or beach in Cornish and Welsh.
> 
> [Korriban](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Korriban) is just angry [people](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Korriban_zombie) in suits, shouting into cellphones and terrifying their legal secretaries.


	2. Shelter in Place (And Keep Yourself Busy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There’s a remoteness to him Rey finds hard to understand. She’s not sure why she’s become so quickly invested in drawing in from his careful arm’s length._   
>  _\----_   
>  _There’s a soft, low moan... Ben can’t breathe, he can’t move. He can’t even feel his hands. He can feel his cock growing hard and insistent in his pants._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated.
> 
> I thought about splitting this chapter, but I got sidetracked posting my foot-in-mouth Smuggler Ben one-shot and the more chapters the longer it is until boning. So. Seeing as I didn't write smut in chapter one, despite my best initial intentions. ("You have become the very thing you swore to destroy!")
> 
> CW: alcohol consumption (brief)  
> Ben's negativity about his scar  
> Accidental aural voyeurism

One of the first things Rey noticed about Ben Solo is that he moves in spaces like he owns them, even if he might not know quite what to say when he opens his mouth (or prefers not to do so at all).

She senses he has to work hard to put someone physically at ease; striding toward her in the snow like a mix of shampoo ad and hunting animal he’d briefly left her speechless. No mean feat concerning her.

There’s a remoteness to him Rey finds hard to understand, an increase in tension whenever he reveals a detail about his life – almost like he’s suspicious of his own mouth.

She’s not sure why she’s become so quickly invested in drawing in from his careful arm’s length.

They’ve travelled through the outer city boroughs as the sun recedes and the ice storm picks up considerably. Passed under the arched shadows of the Mothma Bridge where it spans the dark, buffeted, tree-lined Sah’ot River and down Chandrila’s snow-blanketed central business streets flanked by mirrored sky scrapers.

Rey has not yet explored here, sticking close to the older, rougher university area across the city.

Right now it’s a ghost town with the occasional piece of blown rubbish and she’s fallen quiet too. The growing darkness lit only by sparse pools of light from emergency streetlamps and the pinpricks of high apartment windows with most people already sheltering inside.

It’s an unsettling way to first view this moneyed part of the city – even the main line sky rail tracks hang motionless.

* * *

Rey’s nose leaves prints on the window glass, the heater and defrosters working hard to steal the puffs of humid breath she leaves as she takes in the dim, wind-rocked silhouettes of leafy trees and stately architecture in historic inner district of Upper Hanna.

He slows on a quiet street by an imposing six storey building in elegant beige stone and ironwork, small casement balconies and rooftop dormer windows.

A museum or gallery or—

His car turns into the basement driveway, she sees a gilt nameplate reading One O’bé Place flash in the headlights.

“Just in time, car says it’s down to minus fifteen already,” he breathes out.

“You _live_ here? This is _apartments_?”

“Yes,” Ben states blankly, pulling in next to another even sleeker vehicle.

_They’re all sleek! Good Maker, don’t open his door into anything!_

“It’s me, two other residences, uh, and a gallery and the local branch of Chandrila Historic Places Trust. Lots to keep them busy around here, they’re quiet neighbours.”

He steps out to open her door with urgency, quicker than her nervous fumbling with the seatbelt.

“My grandfather had this place built in the Core Zone art nouveau boom.”

He’s matter-of-fact about it, even bemused, but Rey is stuck on the implication: his loose-limbed confidence is due to ‘owns’ likely often being true. 

The lobby is vast and softly lit, all bronze and gold and green in sinuous design – this isn’t Maz’s cosy yellow home or any student living.

Large filigree windows let in rising moonlight above a curving staircase of earth toned woods and swirling tiles.

Ben is watching her carefully and there’s a revived spring in his stride as he hefts several boxes in one arm, suit straining, swinging his key fob. Rosie would say he walks like he’s got a big—

Rey averts her eyes, telling her internal Rose to shut up.

She stops to run her fingertips over a mosaic on the wall. Blue nymphs cavort, their heads adorned with strangely beautiful tails.

“You’re a fan of the style?” Ben’s eyes soften as he watches. She nods.

“This building is a classic Kenobi, it’s listed. Some of his best work. Hence the gallery; mom thought it would be good to have some of this space open to the public.”

Ben purses his full lips, and Rey’s eyes linger. She teases. “You don’t agree?”

“What can I say, I appreciate the historical interest but I’m not a fan of groups of people on my doorstep. Or of groups in general.”

He gives a wry half shrug but doesn’t seem abashed.

Their footsteps echo in the empty silence and into the bank of bronze elevators, his cologne pressing closer again in this enclosed space – warm spice with low sharp notes. Rey toes her boot over a spiral of tile.

_Lifts are more awkward than being in the same proximity in a car… in a car it’s harder to hear a person breathing._

Ben clears his throat, shifting his weight before the doors open.

“I was named after Kenobi. He’s still designing even at his age. Well, this is me.”

Rey jiggles a box against her hip in the penthouse floor antechamber as he produces a tarnished, old-fashioned key, fumbling with the lock of the lone wooden door with the nameplate ‘B.Solo’ before ushering her inside.

Slush-tinged leather is removed in favour of his slip on house-shoes and her cat-print socks with a hole.

He says it’s a Nabooian practice his yiayia insists on and she mulls over what this could mean for the scope of his family, running a toe over the spotless marble floor under the refracting stained glass entrance archway. No dusty corners here.

The foyer gives way to an expanse of parquet and vaulted ceilings and it’s as spacious as he’d promised. But for all the stone, expense, and clean lines it’s the two opposing wide bay windows and the full, tall bookshelves that catch her attention. Her fingers twitch.

She wonders if he ever gets lonely in it all.

“Help yourself in the kitchen and make yourself at home, I want you to be comfortable.”

He states this vehemently, leading her to a hallway and indicating to laundry and main bathroom, a spare bedroom with some basic gym equipment she’s welcome to use, his own rooms down the far end.

“This is you. Your private space. Bed, attached bathroom through there, all the usuals.” Ben waves a vague hand.

_Usuals_. _So this is how the other half live. And for the duration of this storm, I get to be that other half_.

“Wow, this is amazing! I feel like back at the crash I should have been cap in hand, all ‘Please Mr Solo sir, take pity on me’!”

Yeah, it’s either babbling or a joke when nervous.

Ben grunts a small noise and rubs tensely at where that faint scar bisects his jaw.

“I’ve got golden pheasant au vin I made last night. You must be exhausted. Settle yourself in and we’ll eat. Then you can get a good rest.” His voice is a little rough. 

_Of course he looks like this and cooks too. Things I haven’t heard of, probably never touched an insta-portion ramen._

* * *

Alone, Rey flops face-first onto the spacious bed and rolls over… and over. The watercolour duvet is like those in that fancy Coruscant department store she’d visited with Paige and Kaydel to dream shop and wishfully test the furniture. Nothing like a thin pad over a metal frame in student housing or Rose’s lumpy pull-out couch.

An oil painting above the polished wood headboard is the room’s one focal point – a villa by a wide blue lake, surrounded by restful green. The sort of place she’s imagined going to. One corner reads ‘PN 1948’ and something she can’t quite make out beginning with a V.

Rey is still waiting to feel a clutch of fear at being with an unknown man in this type of situation, but it hasn’t arrived. Really it’s the lack of alarm that’s unsettling her, how after an initial shock her impulse _wasn’t_ just to run.

Instead what preoccupies her is how at ease and _safe_ she already feels with Ben. Safety… she likes. It’s more familiar now but there’s also been a lot of the opposite in her life experience. And certainly it’s never this quickly.

His rare full smile, the one that feels rusty with disuse – that’s another preoccupation.

She’s not sure what to make of a very caring, often diffident side paired with a take-charge attitude – unused to the low swooping in her belly at how he’d stepped his broad body in front of her in that quickly regretted argument, and again when she thinks about how concerned he is with seeing her fed and rested.

Rey is accustomed to fighting her own battles (for good or ill) and seeking assistance as a last resort. Yet she’d _liked_ how he knew what to do.

Strangely welcome, not _having_ to fight.

Whatever this settling, warm heaviness in her limbs is in response, this pooling softness – this is unfamiliar. 

Her head makes a muffled thump against the duvet.

_It’s probably just gratitude and he’s attractive. Don’t be a weird guest._

Rey shuts the heavy curtains with satisfaction on the storm reflected dark and angry in the warp of thick, old glass. Her face mirrored and altered too.

The journey from hurried cereal and tepid moof milk past its Best Before this morning to spending the foreseeable future in a stranger’s luxury apartment has been staggering.

Standing beneath the shower’s rainfall head for a long while – a new experience for both the high-end private bathroom and a consistent temperature – water drums over her face and hair, as hot as she can stand. She imagines her day sloughing off and down the drain. Sour, anxious sweat replaced by the soft scent of amber and sandalwood from Ben’s extravagant guest toiletries.

**************

Hefting Rey’s remaining boxes in the entranceway, Ben pauses by the thermostat. Usually he keeps his home on the cooler side, running hot himself, but he’ll ask her what she likes.

Rey had toasted herself beneath the air vents in his car and he hadn’t had the heart to disturb her enjoyment, so just sweated beneath his suit. Jakk-upon-Treath is not well-known in this region but he has heard about its temperatures; perhaps she’d become accustomed to it.

He scowls at the thermostat’s flashing ascending numbers, stabbing at the button and thinking about her origins. Whatever the story is behind how she ended up left in foster care there.

His feet fall heavily through the apartment to deposit her boxes outside her door, echoing down the hallway to his room.

Tugging his suit roughly onto its hanger with none of the respect it deserves, he doesn’t understand how anyone could abandon her.

Switching on his bathroom light he wrenches at the buttons of his still dampened collar – to be startled by his own expression in the mirror. The angry man staring back at him was once very familiar.

Ben breathes, rubbing his palms over the cool porcelain of the sink. Creating distance from that look he’s not seen in a while.

Since meeting Rey he’s felt the closest to being verbally unzipped in a long time. Already saying more about himself than was probably appropriate – either sharing details no stranger could be expected to care about or not quite knowing what is right to say.

He knows he’s dwelling but his skin prickles with embarrassment as he undresses.

Best to stick with what’s safe and right now they both need to eat. Rey especially if student food is still as he remembers.

He should have asked if there are things she doesn’t like, but his brain went straight to decision making for them both. At least she’s safe here now. 

_Rey seems happy to eat all kinds of things, she’ll be a good girl—_

Ben turns his face up to the water, raking his blunt nails firmly over his scalp.

This is why he doesn’t _do_ impulsive. He was hardly going to leave her there but also did _not_ think this through.

He forces his mind to the familiar safety of listing tasks. He’ll check on Gial on the second floor, his grown children all living away. He’ll make sure Hux is on the same page about not giving in to Pryde’s latest attempts to have them toe well over the line of current legislation.

He’ll give Rey her space.

His billable hours are unlikely to drop anyway. Work always provides an escape.

**************

Rey’s feet fall softly on the parquet in her fuzzy bed-socks, tracing a path to Ben who is staring pensively out a window at the swirling, snowy view of a shadowed street below and growing electrical disturbance in the darkness.

In blue and light grey now but still buttoned to the neck, still looking like he belongs in an office rather than at home. His cuffs at least are rolled up, although that provides its own distraction – her eyes zero in on muscled forearms and expensive looking wristwatch. Damp hair exposes large ear tips, boyish against his formality.

When he turns, however, those brown and amber eyes carefully shutter over.

Is he angry at her… knees? Rey’s not sure what she’s done but tries a smile, fidgeting with the ribbon drawstring of her heart-printed sleep shorts.

This isn’t how she wants to begin their time together. Shifting against the fluffy blanket and soft toy she’s had pinned under an armpit, he better not judge her for these.

Blotting at the last of her hair she slings Ben’s spa-sized towel over a nearby dining chair. “Are you not usually very social?”

She considers that her phrasing could have been better but his face barely registers her words. He’s still glaring, just at the towel now like he can’t believe it would dare to drape. 

“For a long time I saw the worst of people in my practice,” he grunts. “And I’m used to spending a lot of time alone, need my own space.”

Yes, a lot of Ben’s intimidating exterior seems to really just be social discomfort. This apartment is his private domain, she’d bet a fortnight’s worth of snacks he rarely has others in it.

_What does that make me then, in his territory?_

Her odd thread of contemplation is severed by Ben raising her damp towel very deliberately between thumb and forefinger with pressed lips and an unreadable look.

“Back in your bathroom.” There’s a pause.

“Please. I’ll make you a drink, what would you like?”

As his voice shifts from stern to more coaxing she blinks at the contrasting tones, curling her toes in her socks. But the offer is too tempting to interrogate and her hand snatches for the offending object before she’s fully aware.

He keeps hold of his end as if he’s waiting for a response.

“Yes thank you,” she sighs. “I could _murder_ a cup of tea.”

His mouth curves briefly as he moves to draw the heavy curtains against the outside world with a conclusive grunt.

She rubs at the raised hairs on her arms.

* * *

Settling into the massive sofa she breathes deeply into the warmth of her mug. Wondering how many people other than its owner have sat here before her – it’s so pristine.

Each sip spreads into her hands, relaxes a lingering coil of tension in her chest.

This dark tan brew even makes her magnanimous about the fact that Ben made her tea using a _microwave_ – claiming there’s probably a stovetop kettle around here somewhere but it’s not like he uses it.

(As a point of pride she asserted the _clear_ superiority of an electric type.)

Fidgety and at a loss after such an intense day she pulls her blanket closer around her legs. Crushing her plushy porg to her jumper – a gift from Finn, understanding her need for what some consider childhood items.

She refuses to be self-conscious about them, not when she’s making up for lost comforts. With them here she’ll be able to sleep.

“Can I play some music?” 

Ben answers her warmly over his shoulder. “You may. The system’s built in, just connect your phone.”

Rey shuffles her eclectic relaxational playlist of songs that make her feel warm and settled, a feeling she’s chasing right now.

Poking around his living space, hips twitching, shifting to the beat, she steals glances as he moves about with a paper bread bag and containers. Notes the fit of him within his space, his scale of his wide frame against the cabinets.

Not a surprise he has some kind of gym at home.

Ben pauses over his food prep and watches, dark eyes tracking her movements intently as she unashamedly, joyfully twirls on his vast abstract rug.

There’s something about the look on his face, the plant of his hands on the wide granite, but an abrupt well of feeling stops Rey short – she throws back her head, rubbing at her prickling eyes with a hoarse, disbelieving sort of laugh.

“Oh R’iia!” she wetly answers Ben’s sudden alarmed look.

“I think it just hit me! A wave of relief – I’m safe, I’m not still in a ditch somewhere, _thank you_ , I’m glad you came along when you did. You didn’t leave me behind.”

Wiping his hands Ben reaches for his whiskey highball and moves closer, running a fingertip around the heavy, glinting rim.

“So am I. I couldn’t have done otherwise.”

His voice is decisive, with a steel edge. “You should _never_ have had to deal with that alone.”

He gestures to the long slab of dark stone that forms a wealthy person’s idea of an inviting dining table. No matter, she’s feeling that unusual warmth and softness enough.

“Sit. We’ll eat.”

Rey folds her shins under her thighs and he places a plate before her with a flourish and far more satisfaction in his eyes than she expects, arching an amused eyebrow when she reaches immediately to dig in. She hastily removes her hands and shifts more upright in her chair, an odd little wobble in her stomach and breath.

There’s a small, perhaps pleased, sound from the back of Ben’s throat and he pours her a half glass of wine. A bigger one for himself.

He _did_ cook this, she reminds herself. It is the least she can do, waiting for him.

He really seems to hope she’ll get more enjoyment from her meal if he explains what he calls a young, but promising and approachable Andoan red.

His eyes had flashed at her intake of air when he’d pushed on dark wood cabinets to pop out a wine cooler and very full bottle racks – much of his kitchen built hidden and smoothed over.

“Family thing. My nonna started me collecting it. The one with the corgis,” he’d twinkled at her with a small smile.

This information about fancy plonk is unlikely to stick but she senses it could be an ongoing dinnertime theme. She’ll pretend, although she’d rather just be eating, both for the earnest consideration on his face half-shadowed beneath the chandelier and the way nothing about his attentiveness feels patronising. It’s quite sweet.

“Ben this is _amazing_ , R’iia’s shorts you can really cook!”

She gratefully digs in to the rich, unfamiliar braised meat and bread. It’s definitely not to her usual budget or her own skills.

Giving small ravenous moans and licking butter from her fingers as his sound system cycles to ‘[Daddy Issues](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnLAa6_hB9A)’.

Ben looks pleased and amused for a moment, dipping his head — then his jaw starts to work, tension cording his forearm and moving through him as he grips tighter on his paused forkful. His eye twitches.

His sudden expression shift is almost like someone who can’t believe he’s being bothered like this – but that can’t be right. It’s not like the lyrics in her playlist are offensive, it’s not that kind of collection.

Although she’s been told her table manners could use some work. 

> _Go ahead and cry little girl_
> 
> _Nobody does it like you do…_
> 
> _And if you were my little girl_
> 
> _I’d do whatever I could do_
> 
> _I’d run away and hide with you_
> 
> _I love that you got daddy issues…_

Rey feels like he’s having an unspoken conversation and she’s missing both sides. Or perhaps isn’t invited; he doesn’t elaborate.

She hums around her forkful, watching him until he shakes himself and flashes her a brief, tight smile, asking about the foods she likes best.

_Intense_ , _guarded man_.

* * *

**************

Assessing himself in the mirror, Ben changes into another dress shirt for a new day. It wouldn’t be his preference working from home – still dressing for the office regardless of having a video meeting or not – but things are a bit different with Rey unexpectedly in his space. She’d be uncomfortable with his usual level of at-home skin.

He strides across his large bedroom with its thick navy rug and vast dove-grey and walnut bed to crack open a window. Stealing a very brief, if risky, burst of frigid air. He’s been feeling her thermostat preferences for the last three days, even with keeping his further end of the house on a cooler setting. At least he doesn’t need cufflinks unless there’s a client video meeting.

However, the main motivation of a collar is it covers more of his scar than a t-shirt.

He always has to push past an initial discomfort displaying it – expecting negativity regardless of people’s reactions, which he’d really rather not risk from her. 

Perhaps it would be different if it had been obtained from something more mundane like falling off a bicycle, and not a reminder of how self-destructive he was at his old job.

He’s still ruminating as he makes his way to Rey’s room for the video chat – finally managing to clear time in his hectic workload created by the lockdown coordination of both their Chandrila and Coruscant offices. Irritated however that he couldn’t find a gap more immediately; it’s important her loved ones are comfortable with who she’s living with.

There’s music behind her door when he knocks with his elbow and it flies open to Rey dancing up to him with tousled hair, in pyjama pants and a threadbare pink hoodie. The zipper looks half broken and it’s only zipped to just above—

Oh.

She doesn’t seem to be wearing a bra.

There are sun-scattered freckles on her chest too.

Ben swallows, clutching his coffee cup like a ward and passing over her tea without a word.

With her frequent dancing that may not have happened in this apartment since it was Yiayia Padmé and Grandpa Anakin's city residence (the sudden realisation sticks somewhere around his sternum). With the half-covered curves of her small body and her bright grin of greeting. How between this hoodie with its holey cuffs and her worn winter boots he’s realising she’s not someone who bins even barely serviceable items…

He just wants to… buy her things she’d like, look after her.

The singer [croons](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=823CyuvjuNQ),

> _Proud of you, proud of you_
> 
> _Go 'head girl, make daddy proud of you_
> 
> _Spending his money_
> 
> _Proud of you, proud of you_

Ok, yes – and _also_ do very unspeakable things to his guest. 

Rey’s face falls.

“Is everything ok?” she asks quietly, brow knitted.

He realises several seconds have passed and tries to smooth his expression into something less like a heated stare. “Fine. Yes. Let’s do this shall we?”

It’s hard to not sound terse when he’s trying to control his active imagination and keep his gaze elsewhere, with his height advantage over her zipper.

But he wishes she didn’t look dejected as she switches off her music and connects their call.

* * *

“The blizzard will pick up from now on, it’s due to get to minus fifty centigrade regularly overnight. Is your heating working well? Do you have adequate supplies?” Rey gives a considering, soft smile at his question to Rose and he’s not sure why she is but likes the cheerfulness better on her face.

Rose has been vibrating excitedly in her striped sweater since they connected their scheduled video call, her small face lit up with delight, pink suffusing the golden beige of her cheeks. Thick, black bob quivering from the laptop on the dresser.

Ben can see exactly why they’re close and it’s easy to imagine the resulting chaos.

“Yes and kriffing lucky it is, I _never_ adjusted to temperatures outside Hays Minor. Give me heat and humidity any day! I read it’s supposed to last for at least a fortnight.” She puffs out her round cheeks. “But we’re sorted, you’ll find me pushed up against our wall units until my body fuses with my duvet. Makes me even gladder Reyrey’s not stuck in one of those shelters. Thank you, Ben, really.”

**************

Ben inclines his head at Rose’s thanks, and Rey sees a pleased look pass briefly over his face before it resettles to a now familiar resting broodiness. He steps closer and the warmth of his chest radiates into her back and shoulder – matching the mug of tea she hadn’t requested, in her hands.

His easy consideration feels like a lot, going some way to alleviate spikes of worry that she’s unwelcome – especially when he gets one of his intense looks. He invited her, she reminds herself. He’s just a busy man.

“Seriously we’ve been begging Rey for _years_ not to careen into situations with her temper like she can just scrap her way out. Dude sounded like an arsehole and full offence to him, but knowing you were there made us feel a lot better. Like adult supervision or something.”

Rey doesn’t stifle her laugh at Rose’s familiar, fond exasperation.

Ben’s shirt brushes against her arm, warm, rich baritone near her ear – his reply with its self-effacing gravity. It’s hard not to be pulled into it.

Hard also as she breathes in his cologne, becoming increasingly aware of her pulse in her ears, her hoodie’s rougher cotton rubbing her progressively more sensitised nipples with every lungful of air she takes.

A little awkward – trying to not just… lean back into him completely inappropriately, close her eyes and enjoy this coiling in her belly. Trying to steady her breaths so he can’t tell how strange she’s being.

He’s been keeping his promise of giving her space and while she appreciates that everything about her stay so far indicates he’s a man of his word – she’s not stuck with some horrifying alternative – more of his company and conversation would be welcome.

Again he’s so proper today, only lacking a tie. The contrast of careful cuffing displaying those solid forearms, yet prim front buttons, makes her fingers itch to reveal the skin beneath his Adam’s apple.

Even in her own controlled fantasy lies an awareness that he might not just _let_ her have her way, not with the tone he’d taken over one wet towel. It’s a new idea but not, she finds, unwelcome. Something to turn over in her mind.

Rose has said something else, rich brown eyes alight and Ben is nodding along. Taking a deep pull of his caf, rubbing his lips against the rim thoughtfully.

The second frame on screen is mostly filled by him and even slouched to fit in view he could just reach out and tuck her under his arm – another contrast that continues to make her a little unsteady, because she is objectively _not_ short.

The path of these musings is best left for when she’s alone and her hand jerks with the snap of her attention back to Rose.

Warm tea slops, trickling down her bare chest.

“Shit!” she hisses. Shoving her hand beneath her zipper to wipe the liquid.

The sound of a low choke.

“Are you ok? Did it burn?” There’s an anxious crack in Ben’s voice and she turns to see him banging on his chest, dark eyes flickering with concern over her face and then lower. His nostrils flare and he frowns.

Well yes, it _was_ clumsy of her.

“I’m fine, wasn’t hot enough. Just— just lost in thought.”

She feels her neck warm and tries to focus on something sobering – like the weather she can hear howling against the window.

“Good. I’ll—” His voice is hoarse and he clears his throat. “I’ll just leave you ladies to it. Nice to meet you Rose. Stay well.”

Ben unfurls himself and strides purposefully for the hallway gripping his mug.

* * *

“What is he so kriffing LARGE for? Your description was inadequate, he _dwarfs_ you!” The unmistakable voice rings out again in moments.

Rey really hopes Ben is far enough away, moving her laptop to the bed.

“ _Rosie!_ Although… he was in the kitchen and he’s a _head_ taller than his fridge – it’s a _big fridge_! You’d look like a garden gnome,” she whispers, feeling both vindicated and exposed.

Rose chortles then asks, “Did you pack any bras?”

“What? Yeah they’re in my boxes somewhere, I’ve got all my stuff. Why?” Rey stumbles over Rose’s abrupt topic shift. People can tear her small chested benefits from her cold, dead hands.

“ _Ha_ , never mind, you keep being comfortable. He’s interesting looking, quite extreme. I bet you’re into it. I am looking very disrespectfully at your future carnal activities.”

“ _Rose_ , retract your thorns I’ve got to live here!” Rey flushes and flops backward, irrationally worried her embarrassing daydreams are visible.

“ _Pah_. Anyway, trust you to manage to bunk with someone from one of Chandrila’s rich list families. Eat the rich! Or just eat their perishables. Hey though, Ben’s mom’s done some kriffing awesome stuff.”

Rey’s head pops up. “What? How do—”

“ _Please_ , I already told you I searched him online as soon as you messaged me. You know; _axe murderer._ Spoilsport doesn’t seem to have _any_ social media though. Maybe his licence is fake and he’s a well-preserved sixty-four.”

The triumphant Tico grin turns into a pout, but Rey is distracted by her own flash of… irritation? Something about Rose’s suggestion that Ben is lacking in some way by being private, or is offputtingly older.

And there’s the reminder their backgrounds _are_ that different – she stares up at the oil lake scene with a frown.

Rose doesn’t receive the expected laugh and gives an assessing, sharp-eyed look in return.

“ _Well anyway_ , me and Paige were talking with Maz while she stress-baked – you know how she gets, bless her. Honestly she was more still chill about your situation than I expected. At least we know your beloved piece of shit isn’t going anywhere, hanging out in that ditch. Not like anyone would _want_ it any—"

“Oi! You take that back, Rose Anh Tico!” Rey flips off the screen.

“BB is the _most reliable_ hunk of orange paint held together with body filler that you’ve ever met! A noble steed, a faithful companion! And absolutely, yeah, no one else would have it. We got all my stuff.”

Rey angles the laptop toward the corner boxes.

“Not too much, living that student life. Ben has everything else I need to wile away the snowpocalypse.” 

“Your lockdown staycation!”

“My stay-in-holiday!” 

Maz _had_ been relatively sanguine about Rey’s circumstances on the phone, although Rey could picture the intense chain of discussion sure to follow amongst her voluble group of friends.

Mostly she seemed concerned with lovingly but firmly reminding Rey of the need to at least _try_ to keep neat and tidy, for Ben’s sake. 

“You’ll do better if for once, dear child, the belongings you keep are not strewn behind you, but put away ahead of them being tripped over. Possibly by that large man you’ve found.”

Rey had muttered very insincere assurances.

“So… if the Solo Wide Door Fridge/Freezer model is apparently off limits (which I want to state again on record is extremely boring, especially now I’ve had a look at you two together) did you at least buy _the toy_ before you had to leave?”

Rose makes an unsubtle circle back to a topic of interest: the scarcity in Rey’s love life compared to her own mutually happy, varied arrangements.

“It’s quiet, for your circumstances. Though you might not be, _fuck_...”

She trails off and Rey snorts. “Yeah I finally caved to your nagging. What were you calling it?”

Rose cackles. “The Clit Sucker 5000, because it is! Guaranteed to change your life and slash or remove your soul through your junk. Amazing for your first toy, my little relative-innocent. You’ll never want to move to single-speed buzzing. I bought one for Paige and Kaydel for Life Day and the first time Jannah used hers on me I just about saw Maker. Well _a_ deity. Maybe a debauched one. Should I suggest it to Maz too or would that be weird? It’s waterproof so enjoy the probably multiple bathrooms in your mansion.”

“Rosie there are three, it’s ridiculous. Mine’s all marble and I’ve got a huge rain-head shower. And a _bidet_ , which I’m scared to try. But I am _not_ going to wank myself all over his house, you call _me_ feral! I’ll just... christen this bloody huge guest bed. And maybe the shower. I’ll stick it on the charger while I remember and try it tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“We love self care. Pity me stuck with this shitty water pressure and Paige and Kaydel’s karaoke duets. I expect proof of life tomorrow. Prepare yourself, that thing is lethal.” Rose nods solemnly.

**************

Rey’s door is open but Ben knocks anyway with his armful of fresh towels. His mom did teach him how to properly host a guest, though he’s extremely rusty and this might be overkill. But she deserves comfort, with this stress.

He’s tried all day not to think about Rey’s hand between her breasts in her low-zipped hoodie, her peaked nipples, her mouth bulging around pretzels in his car or what could be behind her evocative musical choices.

Two songs out of a large selection is hardly meaningful – just self-torturing wish fulfilment.

He’s tried to focus on proposed changes to resource management legislation and _not_ the comment he’d heard Rose make. Did she say that because Rey likes someone bigger, or was she just joking around? And how _did_ Rey describe him?

Her lounging wardrobe so far just makes her look younger… while also highlighting how small she’d be in his hands. Chastisement and temptation.

Yes, he’s still trying.

There’s no reply, so he chances his head around the doorframe. Her room is empty, she’s probably down the hall in the living area.

What next catches his attention is the mess. How such a tiny thing can so quickly create such chaos is beyond him. It’s going to be rough without his cleaning service.

Rey needs reminders to use coasters and he has to bite his tongue when his impulse is to be much more demanding. Especially after that wet towel on his antique dining chair, right off the bat.

He’s seen her sitting on the sofa with her feet higher than her head and his cushions all over coffee table and rug! Not just untidy, but extremely… distracting.

If he could he’d buy her some kind of ridiculous squashy chair to laze in, something she could curl sweetly into and get as many crumbs on as she wanted, something cute she’d like.

Although not before turning her behind red – her waist _would_ be dwarfed by his thighs if he set her over them, even if that’s not what Rose meant.

But that’s not what this emergency shelter situation she’s stuck in is. He grips the towels to his chest like a shield.

Her bed is unmade and he itches to neaten it, at least to pull the duvet off the floor and throw away that ice cream wrapper – but he’d promised her this space was _hers_.

And it is.

And he definitely does not need to be seeing that discarded _underwear_ by her _pillow_.

It’s… tiny.

He rubs at the ache between his eyebrows.

Ben averts his gaze from the three accumulated soda cans on the bedside table and is looking for somewhere freer to put her towels when there’s a soft, low moan.

The bathroom door is shut but that’s water running – he’d been too distracted to notice, should never have come in here at all.

There’s no mistaking those small noises that are increasing in frequency – they shoot straight to his dick. His libido is very interested, wanting to know why he’s not pursuing the source.

Ben can’t breathe, he can’t move. He can’t even feel his hands.

He _can_ feel his cock growing hard and insistent in his pants – straining against his fly, each throb a reminder that it’s been several dry months.

And the worst part is, with how each time he looks at Rey he feels he’s committing her details to memory, he can picture _exactly_ what she’s doing.

The same petite, butter-covered fingers.

The curve of lightly golden thigh that leads up under shorts.

The small nipples he catches sight of in certain fabrics or lighting.

He doesn’t know how she tends her softest area – wouldn’t care, would bury his face and worship in any configuration – but his mind can make an educated guess at the expression currently on her face. He’s stolen a lot of glances there.

How her little pink mouth would shape around each of these sounds, her half-lidded pleasure perhaps not far from how she looks enjoying dinner.

This is private, it’s a difficult time, she can do whatever she wants in the bathroom to unwind.

But Ben’s traitorous feet stay rooted to the spot and worse – his hand comes to grip and subdue his pressured cock.

It’s wildly inappropriate, everything he’d promised not to do—

There’s a sudden series of loud whimpers, a high moan that just seems to go on and _on_ —

a thump and muffled cursing.

He swallows, mouth dry. He thinks his brain has shorted out.

The last person he’d had as a play partner hadn’t been as vocal so Rey’s uninhibited moans are like lightning up his spine. She clearly had a _very_ good time.

He _needs_ to leave, he should, he _will_ — just as soon as he knows she’s alright; that bang was loud.

Anxiety licks at Ben for several agonising seconds. What if she’s hurt? Lying there in the shower, and running in to help her would show where he was but _leaving_ her there isn’t an option—

The water switches off, and there’s the noise of two small feet padding around. She’s humming happily to herself, sounding relaxed.

The spell is broken, Ben jolts and rushes out as quietly as he can clutching her forgotten towels. Gulps in air in the hallway realising he’s still holding it.

Thank the Elder Gods she’s ok – and for his soft-soled house-shoes – but shit, _shit_ , now he knows what she _sounds_ like when she _comes_.

The hallway feels twice the distance to cover even with his hurried strides; with every step he can picture manhandling her little form as he fucks into her in that shower, whispering filthy things in her ear and gripping her wet hair.

Her whimpers bounce around his head and his dick demands he do _something_ about this situation.

He’s already palming himself as he bursts into his own bathroom, stripping without preamble, almost flinging his wristwatch into the wall in his haste. Standing beneath the spray braced against the wide marble tiles and fisting himself rapidly.

Straight to it, no teasing, rough enough to clench his own jaw.

Ben just wants to _come_ ; in her, on her, he doesn’t _care_ which as long as _he’s_ making her produce those sounds.

He tugs harshly at his heavy cock, rubbing his thumb up and over the slit, each slide of the velvet skin that covers it a pulse of pleasure to relieve the ache. _Kriff_ , he’s already leaking he’s so hard.

His mind is a mess of jumbled images, unable to decide which thought to follow.

Rey rubbing her clit, legs splayed on his sofa as he watches, begging him to fill her with his fingers.

Licking her over and over as she lies trembling and bare against his dark stone dining table, forcing orgasm after orgasm until she’s writhing.

Finally her pinned over his desk showing him the respect he demands, a little pool of heart-printed fabric around her ankles, covered completely by his body as he drives into her roughly and she comes around him is what sends him over the edge.

He groans raggedly, so tense his abs cramp, mind a burst of colour. Spurting lines of cum onto the shower wall with each jerk of his hips, her moans a repeating soundtrack in his brain.

Resting his forehead against the wet marble he twitches with aftershocks.

Ben’s pleasure drains away to a heavy, sick feeling.

Rey is his _guest_. She’s too young. He needs to still be able to look her in the face and letting his fantasies place her within his inclinations is a sure way to feel worse about the situation.

He can’t abuse her reliance on his hospitality – or go into her room again.

_It hasn’t even been a week_. _No more mistakes like tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💜 for kudos and comments 💜
> 
> Benjamin B C 'We Do Not Defile Our Guests or So Help Me' O Solo: [eye twitch]  
> Rey: [cinnamon roll intensifies]
> 
> [Sah’ot](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lake_Sah%27ot) (Lake).
> 
> Think [Jules Lavirotte](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jules_Lavirotte) for Kenobi's architectural style.
> 
> We don't wear outdoor shoes inside in my culture and Ben Solo would also 100% proudly be That Bitch (and Padmé absofuckinglutely, she'd have a colourful monogrammed slipper collection).
> 
> [Golden pheasant](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Golden_pheasant). Padmé would have them cold-couriered to her only grandson.
> 
> [Andoan wine](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Andoan_wine).
> 
> Hays Minor has a climate like Vietnam in this story.
> 
> The Clit Sucker 5000 is what me and mine call the [Satisfyer Pro 2 Next Generation](https://adulttoymegastore.co.nz/sex-toys/female-sex-toys/clitoral-toys/satisfyer-pro-2-next-generation/204270/260/). Reviews are hilarious and everything Rose says is true.


	3. Acclimatization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hidden depths in many ways.” Rey’s hazel eyes twinkle at him._  
>  \----  
>  _“You’ve really worked hard and you want to help people. It’s good enough, you’re doing so well.”_  
>  _She seems to glow under his praise and Ben stamps down his urge to tell her more, so much more – that she’s such a good girl._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appendix in endnotes as usual.  
> CW (going to start adding some to each chapter's notes, but still check the tag updates too):  
> Mention of unhealthy childhood home environment and (currently vague) past trauma for Rey.  
> Angry Ben (not at Rey).  
> Rey's impostor syndrome.  
> Minor character pregnancy mention  
> Alcohol mention (brief)
> 
> There are horrifying things happening in the world but we can love each other as a very active verb. Here are some ways that non-Americans like me can also contribute: [The OFFICIAL Peace and Healing for Darnella Fund](https://www.gofundme.com/f/peace-and-healing-for-darnella) . [Homeless Black Trans women fund](https://www.gofundme.com/f/homeless-black-trans-women-fund?utm_source=customer&utm_medium=copy_link-tip&utm_campaign=p_cp+share-sheet). And: information about the authoritarian [Philippine Anti-Terrorism Bill](https://mobile.twitter.com/flueryu/status/1267318223906594817) & an easy email template for those of us from other countries to use to help.  
> Black lives matter, trans women are women, no justice no peace.
> 
> My disabled self is dealing with burnout atm. If that's you or you're also neurodiverse... hi.

Rey remembers flashes of yelling from her childhood and the feelings of desperate anger and despondency that seemed to always emanate from her parents, usually at each other and their situation.

So her typical reaction to raised voices in her direction is for her hindbrain to bare its teeth. Get away. Square up if she can’t.

This is why she’s surprised at her response when she shuffles down the hallway in search of food, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and hears snatches of heated words from the direction of the kitchen.

She stops against the archway.

There’s no second voice and pressing her face against the frame she can see Ben is on the phone.

Letting the muted, aged wood and polish smell curl in her nose she indulges in watching him. Peering through the stained glass archway panels so he’s picked out in a red glow. Even fiercer like this.

“Absolutely not— Then I suggest you go elsewhere—”

A longer pause and a hand through his disarranged hair.

“I imagine it _was_ a surprise discovering we’re the only firm that will work with you for the right price—"

Stalking up and down his kitchen, legs blocked by the counter island but torso well above it – even in profile he looks wild. Angrier than she’s heard him, more explosive than the calmly brandished authority in the snow but with the same dangerous edge to his voice.

She grips the frame, rooted in place.

Not by fear, this feels rather different.

She’s watching some scuffle in a food chain – as sure that she’s not involved or a target as she is about who will come out on top.

There’s a loud smack as Ben lands an over-sized hand against the granite in front of him, forearm jumping with tension beneath that carefully cuffed sleeve. Her stomach gives a swooping flip.

_Oh…_ _That’s very— why is that so—_

She must make some kind of noise, because he spins to face her and inhales sharply with flaring nostrils and pressed lips, face draining of anger – she jumps at being caught.

He’s eyeing her with what strangely looks like _fear_ as he tilts his phone back toward his mouth, which she doesn’t understand. Annoyance at being spied on would make more sense.

“You know the conditions, and the law. When I next hear from you I’m confident you’ll have more relevant ways to take up my time and inflate your bills.”

His voice is clipped but more controlled, something in his tone drawing her closer like a ribbon looped around her neck even if nothing at all has been said in her direction.

She pads slowly across the parquet toward Ben and his eyes stay locked on her while he places his phone gently on the counter beside him, leaning on his splayed hands. Drawing in on himself, not seeming as tall – she has a flash of recognition that this is one of his attempts to put someone at ease. He’s silent until she reaches the island and hops up on a stool.

His throat bobs heavily.

“You shouldn’t have heard that.” His voice is soft, a complete shift, and there’s a deep line between his brows as he searches her face. Smoothing the stone between them with his palms. Is he… afraid she’ll bolt?

“It won’t happen again, I’ll keep my work to my office. I’m _very sorry_ for scaring you.”

Rey opens her mouth to tell him she’s _not_ afraid and apologise for disrupting, but only gets as far as the first letter of his name before he and his phone are off. Striding back to that unseen end of the apartment where she assumes he feels he can do what he needs for his job – in peace.

Over the past week and a half he’s remained like the tides. Drawing out in those formal shirts from the direction of his study for food and caf, only to irrevocably pull back in.

She assumes he does actually sleep.

The stool is unyielding beneath her as she squirms at his counter, the sound of palm slapping against stone bouncing around her brain.

**************

The familiar crack in the drawer of Ben’s massive, dark wood desk is rough under his finger. He’d put it there six years ago in a fit of rage over something that had seemed so important at the time in his former employment.

He’s been more jumpy over the last week, finding it easier to get worked up – especially since he’d heard what he wasn’t meant to coming from Rey’s bathroom. He’s never dealt well with guilt.

And hearing Rey squeak in fright, seeing her _flinch_ at his loss of control? It’s a horrible reminder he’s not that far away from his old way of being, his anger can still do harm.

One thing his old job taught him was to hide how he felt unless that feeling was anger – while the latter is clearly unacceptable around her, there’s some use in the former.

A mask for both inappropriate attraction and mortification, Ben thinks, as he leans back in his high-backed, tobacco leather desk chair to count and pace his breaths before returning to his laptop.

“Silver Sea Coastal Management are being pricks again,” spits Hux as soon as Ben connects to the video call. His friend and colleague's green eyes flash with irritation and his usually blanched face picks up a pinker cast.

“Productive morning, Armitage? Tell me about it, I lost my temper earlier at Pryde. Why do we even bother working with them?”

“Because they pay us well and they are able to do less damage with us not caving in. Also – and most crucially and relatedly – no one else will have them and Enric is conveniently scared of you. I’m well aware he refers to _me_ as ‘that ginger rat’, but I find the large sums of money he sends us to be _exceptionally_ consoling. Return of the old Ben, was it? Been a while.” Hux raises his coppery eyebrows.

Ben sighs and rubs his face. “Something like that. Well he’s keeping us in Corellian single malt. Mom always says the attitudes of a staff are just reflecting the management, so I’m trying to bear that in mind too.”

“Wise woman, Leia. I’d never gamble against her. _No_ — Millicent! That is _not_ a toy, _stop_ — Excuse me, Her Majesty is chewing on an important cable.”

Ben’s lips twitch as Hux’s head disappears from the screen, reappearing with an irate and chubby orange feline clutched squirming to his chest. His often default pinched expression has softened.

“Settle down, Milly. She’s still annoyed my constant presence is disturbing her delicate sleeping and eating routine. I thought the quality time would do us good, but her ladyship has differing views,” he laughs.

“You’ve disrupted the balance of local ecology, I’ll draft a submission.” Ben deadpans.

Hux sniffs, managing to sound both entertained and like he’s about to flag down a waiter to announce that his wine is horribly corked – that’s just Hux.

“What about you? I know you’re not one of the Maker’s most social creatures, Solo, but how have you been bearing up at home by yourself so far?”

“Uh, fine.” Ben shifts and can feel his neck redden like he’s some teenager, like he hasn’t spent years perfecting courtroom-appropriate faces. He hopes his hair is covering his ears.

“What? _What are you not telling me?_ ” No such luck as Hux waves a recalcitrant cat paw for emphasis.

“Alright, first, when I tell you, don’t do your usual exuberant scheming thing.”

“If you say _that_ I’m definitely going to do it! It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Ben sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, deciding to rip the plaster off in one go. Although he leaves a lot out.

“So there is a woman. Staying in your home. Who you _invited_. You, Ben Solo, who doesn’t even invite his _friends_ into his lair – don’t think I forget that. I assume she’s attractive, because I am a terrible yet perceptive person. Ah ha; a disagreeable Solo grunt. She is very attractive then. I understand the recent uptick in your temper. Tell me more about this Rey. What’s she like, where’s she from? Where does she work, how old?”

“Fuck off Hux,” Ben drawls half-heartedly, reddening further. Off, Hux does not fuck.

“No— no, _don’t_ tell me actually. You’re easier to read than a shifty witness when you’re like this and I’ll take any diversions I can get at the moment. Why would you not want to say? Hmm…” Hux narrows his eyes and strokes Millicent in a very evocative gesture.

“I’m not on trial here!” splutters Ben. His friend has always been alarmingly good at cross-examination.

“Oh but you are,” grins Hux archly. “Or the closest experience I’ve got, stuck at home. So she was driving a shitbox, had all her gear in it, at this time of year coming from Chandrila… Solo _you sly beast_ , I bet she’s a student!”

Ben groans and scrubs his face with a big hand, “Look it’s not— _nothing_ untoward is happening. She’s staying in my guestroom, it’s not—”

“I _said_ barely anything,” sniffs Hux. “I merely _heavily_ implied it”

He laughs. “Oh Ben; 'untoward'. But you’d quite like something untoward from the way you’re reacting.”

“She’s only twenty-four,” Ben sighs resignedly. “She’s… _dazzling_ , friendly. Everything I’m not. And— Look. Hux. It’s complicated, with me— I need— it’s just complicated, when I get into something with someone. Which is _why_ it’s as infrequent as everyone loves to point out. There are other aspects I have to consider, and it’s very unlikely she would—”

“Solo, _mate_ , as I have frequently said and just as frequently been proved correct on, you vastly underestimate your own appeal. No! Don’t open your mouth to tell me about your bloody scar again man, no one cares about it half as much as you do. You’ve got to let that history go, you’re a different person now. Phas agrees. She’s also said that if Asajj was ever going to expand Ventress into menswear they’d press-gang you into modelling, which I would pay to see them try!” He guffaws, startling Millicent.

Ben closes his mouth, frowning. Unconvinced at the assessment of biased friends and now concerned with good reason at adding information to their usual cousinly conniving.

“You keep some things very close to your chest and as surprising as it may be to hear, I respect that. Largely because I suspect I would later regret that conversation. But many proclivities are not as rare as you might think.” Hux gives Millicent a considering chin scratch.

“I know you, Solo. You’re _already_ taking care of Rey as much as you can, aren’t you?” he adds with irritating perception. “I understand the situation is delicate with her being stuck, but you won’t know unless you stop brooding and try. I assume she is single?”

Ben’s musing about how positively Rey responds to being taken care of in the way he likes is cut through by Hux’s latter question. He glowers at his friend – Rey hasn’t mentioned a partner but he really doesn’t need ideas to make him jealous.

Hux sniffs, “Anyway, Milly here and I expect by-the-minute updates on your burgeoning romantic life.”

“I’m glad my issues are providing such entertainment for both of you,” Ben answers sourly.

“Certainly, it beats TV.”

* * *

Ben sighs and stretches, popping his back. He ambles from his study toward the kitchen, intent on a midday coffee; the load of documents and least favourite clients – and the promise of Hux and likely Phasma’s future nosiness – requires far more caffeine.

His sofa contains Rey, curled under her cute blanket and sucking on an ice cream bar with the TV turned up to drown out the wind. She’s watching an older fantasy film he knows.

Like this she’s adorable and he tears his eyes away from how her mouth shapes evocatively around the treat… but her beckoning hand is sufficiently diverting from his task that Ben finds his legs moving to flop down on the sofa beside her. Almost squashing a box of iced animal biscuits.

Her sunny smile betrays no fear and says he’s welcome – twofold relief washes over him, for earlier and for lingering embarrassment from _that_ incident. Coffee can wait.

“Enjoying it?”

Rey just chomps the last of her ice cream and starts singing in answer before she’s even swallowed.

“‘ _How you turn my world you precious thing_ ’ _!_ Ugh JUST STAY with the Goblin King! Let your brother be raised by them. _Look_ at him, kid’s having a _great_ time. Big hairy monster can start a crèche!”

Her bouncy enthusiasm is a balm and he feels himself unwind. Enough to ignore his bossy impulse at the ice cream wrapper that’s just fallen to the rug.

“I dunno,” he teases, tone belying his stern expression. “I feel like I’ve met guys like him through my work. Kidnapping, extortion, false imprisonment, an outrageous codpiece… well not that bit. And are those goblins paid? How old is she anyway?”

“Ugh BEN you _philistine!_ Don’t watch then!” Rey laughs, swatting at him before leaning up to cover his eyes.

He jolts knowing he should pull away— but relaxes into her touch. Ben doesn’t remember the last time he was touched with such casual warmth other than by his parents. It seems to come so easily to her.

_Elders, her hands are so small…_

“I mean sure he’s her fear of growing up but this film was also _so_ many people’s sexual awakening,” she giggles. “Come on: ‘ _Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave_ ’ _?_ Rights for women to bone the Goblin King!”

Ben lets her shake his head from side to side for emphasis, blood pounding in his ears at her casual mention of liking an older, more dominant character. At her hands laced in his hair while his white-knuckle his own knees. It’s hard to think.

There’s a tell-tale interested twitch in his pants at the _idea_ of this being his normal.

“A favourite character then?” he asks thickly. “He’s not too controlling for—”

Ben tenses further, cursing himself softly under his breath for another lapse – remembering her reaction to his anger and feeling lecherous.

There’s a beat of silence that stretches and grows thicker between them.

Ben clears his throat and pulls back. “Uh— I should check on one of my neighbours, he’s elderly. Enjoy yourself.”

He does need to call in on Gial, it doesn’t need to be right now – but it’s an errand to keep himself from screwing this up.

Rey makes a noise like she’s confused, a strange look that could almost be sadness on her face.

Minutes later Ben’s feet land heavily, slowly, on the stone of the chillier internal staircase and the shopping bag feels unusually heavy in his gloved hand.

It’s a chance to clear his head outside the confines of his apartment – hasn’t felt this flustered since Tai asked him to the Chandrila University Law School Ball when they were twenty.

Rey on the other hand had only been talking about a movie and being friendly. Of course _his_ brain is trying to trip him up by reading more into it. 

_I’m probably just touch-starved. Dr Jade-Holdo once said I lacked intimacy in my life. I’m thirty-four. I run a firm, I’ve always got control. Get it together Solo, respect your guest._

He’ll make his delivery, message his mom to see how they’re getting on, do something meditative to unwind and return to work.

**************

The movie runs for another few minutes after the front door has closed but Rey’s enjoyment has fizzled out. She jabs at the remote before hauling herself back to her room.

Ben had seemed receptive for a moment, there had been _something_ and R’iia his hair was silky… but then he’d pulled away. Leaving her feeling awkward and regretful even though it was the sort of joking around she’d do to any friend.

_You’ve got different motivations doing that to other friends_ … whispers her conscience.

She types out an email to Finn, trying to focus. Her undelivered messages show the state of mobile reception in the Hothstorm at their retreat, but thankfully he’d been able to get one email through on the unreliable internet – quelling some of her worry.

Their holiday has gone from rural idyll to canned goods and no hot water with the other guests, but they are at least safe.

Rey watches the little sending icon rotate. Who would Ben be in a relationship with?

Another lawyer probably, or someone from a similarly famous family with fewer disparities. Someone sophisticated and closer in age who could hold their own in a tux or gown at some law firm event. Definitely a person who knows how to cook.

His dark eyes are usually warm and intent on her when she eats what he prepares so he clearly doesn’t hate it, but it’s hardly fair he’s doing it all. Nor is it fair that she… finds herself not wanting to offer to try.

So it’s with an element of guilt that Rey enjoys feeling like she does when he cooks for her like she’s _worth_ all the fuss. Feeling cared for, in a way she hasn’t experienced for a while but which has always been important to her.

Maz had once said it was the way to Rey’s heart. Not unexpected given that abundant food is one of her big anxiety soothers.

And her mind keeps circling back to her own last dates in what feels like very many months. Which has got to be some way of torturing herself because that’s clearly _not_ happening, staying here. 

There’d been Gideon who left her holding their table for twenty minutes before he arrived – and it was only for mediocre burgers. As the second man she’d ever slept with he did absolutely nothing to one-up the first, only roughly rubbing out a sad little orgasm for her once he disposed of the condom because she’d asked if his prior chat messages had been all talk.

She’d blocked his profile a week later after he’d asked if she wanted round two. Rey had wondered why, if she was sexually fluid and had options, she’d bother with _that_.

Then Bazine who was fun and Rey liked – who was much better at it than the boys and knew it, but only interested in casual.

Their first occasions together had been enjoyable and she’d really appreciated that Baz didn’t need much guidance. But a further tipsy pub bathroom fumble had been near-injurious for both and they’d moved on, although still staying loosely in touch on a friendly basis.

Yet even in these _actual_ sexual experiences none have made her feel a warmth pooling in her limbs and belly, her body growing heavy as it does sometimes when Ben looks after her or… when he speaks in this particular, assertive way.

Nor had she imagined them when she was… seeing to herself. _Casual_ doesn’t feel appealing now.

She tries to push these thoughts away, typing out a message to Rose.

Ben has been an amazing, unexpected host and at least she’s finding a friend in him. Albeit a much richer one she’s developed a crush on.

Undoing her bun to rake her fingers over her scalp there’s a clear need for a good shampooing and she remembers spilling breakfast on her leggings earlier.

As the video call connects Rose’s face appears on screen to be treated to a classic Rey move of hopping, mid-shucked leggings in HD and the very visual confirmation that today’s underwear choice is baby blue with pink spots.

Not unexpected when Rey’s loved ones claim she’s less modest the more comfortable she is around someone.

“Are those the panties I got you with ‘Daddy’ on the back? They are! Do you wear the whole set?” Rose barks a laugh, “I knew they were a good buy, something about them just screamed you. I suspect you’ll turn out to be a kinky bitch one day.”

Rey pokes out her tongue, sitting on her bed cross legged in front of her laptop and trying not to flush or pay attention to her racing pulse.

“Don’t get too excited, I needed some clean undies and the pack was in one of my boxes. _Unopened_.”

“You wound me!” says Rose dramatically, eyes still twinkling with something hidden. “Next birthday I’ll have to up my game. How is The Human Crane today anyway?”

“I… saw Prince Benjamin earlier but he’s probably working again now. Lockdown doesn’t seem to have stopped his lawyering.”

“Prince? Isn’t he kind of _king_ -sized? Lord Benington? Archduke von Solo? You two still doing ok, no threat of regicide?”

Rey chortles. “Yeah we’re getting along well – no not ‘ _well_ well’ Rosie, don’t bloody look at me like that. Don’t worry he’s still great, just a fancy guy and a bit of a neat freak. Saved my bolshy arse anyway and now I get to enjoy his high-born retreat. He won’t even let me chip in on any bills. I feel a bit awkward about that.” She worries her lip.

“Thank fuck, you’re too broke,” laughs Rose. “You offered and he refused, so just try to enjoy it now. You know what I say about learning to let people help you if they _want_ to, Reyrey. And I still think you could use a little ‘ _well_ well’ by the way, you’ve probably not had any since Tarkin was in office!”

Rey rolls her eyes.

“Have you told Finn and Poe you’re bunking with Ben? I should’ve got a screencap of that video chat—”

“ _No_ , I emailed Finn that I’m staying with a friend. I don’t want to worry them, they’ve got enough to bother with at the moment and the phone signal situation.”

“I’m thinking more of how Poe would probably also want details, he’d back me up!”

Rey snorts. “Ugh, yes. But I won't stress Finn out further, it’s not like he can do what you did and video chat Ben.” After all, that's what she'd immediately want to do if the situation were reversed.

“True. Man, I was really hoping they’d both get a good holiday. This Hothstorm better let up soon, I miss their faces…” Rose’s expression falls abruptly like water rushing from a bath.

“Yeah, a lot,” Rey agrees, rolling and unrolling her t-shirt hem. “When it’s over, we have to all catch up. Somewhere with really good food, no canned beans.”

The both sit for a moment in somewhat downcast silence, Rey's thoughts fixed on her friends, before she asks after Rose’s current friends with benefits – Jannah and Taslin. Rose’s face lifts again.

“Tas got a little grey kitten just before this whole thing started so he’s been sending pictures, it’s so cute. Kriff, I _wish_ I could have a cat, but not with this landlord.”

“I wonder if there are any pets in this building?” Rey muses. “There’s only two other residences though and I haven’t seen the owners yet. When I have an explore I’ll send you pictures, it’s government protected. Of course first thing I bloody did when we got in was rub my mitts over some mural that’s probably priceless.”

Rey groans. “I couldn’t help it, it just looked so _touchable_. Ben didn’t say anything, bless him.”

“Rey you’ve got no home training despite Maz’s best efforts,” Rose laughs. “Love that about you.”

**************

His workday over, Ben re-enters the living space to Rey sitting quietly on her laptop, surrounded by her usual detritus and humming to herself.

Her hair is damp and she’s wearing _that_ hoodie (although mercifully over a t-shirt) so she’s clearly moved… but you wouldn’t otherwise know it.

He’s determined to ignore earlier and keep his distance until she looks up with one of her sunny smiles, asking how his neighbour is – he forgets why he’d want to just stay away from her.

“Gial’s doing fine, very nice man. He’ll be getting the priority deliveries when there’s a safe weather window but he needed flour and we’ve got a lot...”

Rey is watching him with a warm, he thinks maybe even proud, expression but Ben trails off clumsily when she pops an iced animal biscuit in her soft, pink mouth, dropping crumbs.

“You’re like a little borcatu,” he blurts. Realising the moment it’s out of his mouth that this was the wrong thing to say by the way her face falls.

“The _scavenger_ creatures?” she hisses, eyes flashing.

“ _No_ , I mean— _sorry_ , I’ve always thought they’re cute, that came out wrong. _Shit_.” Her frown softens somewhat but she’s still griping her laptop like she needs to anchor herself.

_Fix this, make it better, make her happy, stop messing things up._

“I really am sorry, I realise a lot of people don’t like them but I do. They survive anywhere and love food and… anyway. Let me know if there’s anything you want this evening.” He curves the corner of his mouth up apologetically.

There’s a look of calculation on Rey’s face. “Got any boardgames? Or we can download one to a tablet, bet you’ve got one of those. And _you_ have to play it with me.”

When he nods, surprised _this_ is her request, she grins almost like she’s won something – offence forgotten. Ben doesn’t quite know what to make of it, rubbing at his scar.

Rey tilts her head, brow knitting. “Your index finger is all black?”

“Oh! Oh right, yeah— that’s ink. Calligraphy. Relaxes me.” Ben huffs awkwardly.

“Hidden depths in many ways.” Rey’s hazel eyes twinkle. “Been doing it long?”

“Since I was a teenager. I stayed with my uncle for a while at his weird religious community and _a lot_ was wrong with that time…”

Ben barrels on, ignoring Rey’s look of intense curiosity. “But one of the others taught me some brushwork. I was hooked.”

“Show me sometime. If you’d like. I bet it’s beautiful.” She hums thoughtfully, shoving a questing hand in her snack box and graciously ignoring what he’s sure is his self-conscious blush. He doesn’t show _anyone_ those things.

“Right, I need a drink with these dry biscuits and I’m going to pull the curtains and put on music, I’m sick of looking at this ceaseless bloody weather.”

Ben moves toward the windows before she can get up.

“ _Rey_ , I’ll cook, don’t fill up on that garbage,” he sighs.

“The garbage will do for this borcatu, Mr Solo.” Rey beams cheekily in that breath-taking way of hers and chomps another snack with deliberate, open-mouthed chews.

_Mr Solo huh? I could hold her jaw and lick the crumbs off it, take that damn box away for starters…_

“I’ll, uh, I’ll start dinner first,” he grits out.

* * *

In a hall cupboard Ben finds an elderly box of Scrabble only missing a few pieces that may have been his parents’, or even yiayia and grandpa’s, and unfolds the board between their bowls of stewed nerf steak and spicy rice. They can just be careful eating on the sofa, she’s comfortable where she is.

Rey makes a noise of appreciation around a mouthful and meets his resulting small smile with one of her own.

“So, I was wondering earlier about how busy you are even with the storm. Do you usually work really long hours?”

Her question takes a moment to register over the deep, validating warmth at her enjoyment of something he’s cooked. Ben doubts she’s really that interested, it’s probably just small talk. But his face must give away more than he‘d like; she frowns.

“I _want_ to know about you, so I’m asking.” Rey says this not unkindly. In fact, she shifts a little closer. “I mean, we’re in similar fields.”

“I do work a lot,” Ben says carefully. “But the storm arrangements for our offices have added to it.”

He keeps his comments on the nature of his recent work short – not wanting to remind her of his outburst, and he’d rather hear about her.

“What about you? Why did you choose your degree?”

Rey looks distant for a moment, twirling a letter tile in her fingers.

“Almost nothing would grow in Jakk’u after all the soil erosion and runoff from strip mining, just within a couple of generations. I did some research when I was older, wanting answers. It destroyed local agriculture which tanked the economy for anyone but the outside Imperial mining companies. And all the social problems that came as a result, well… I want to stop things like that from happening, make places green and liveable.”

Her eyes flash and Ben’s throat catches – she’s the most beautiful discussing something she’s passionate about.

“My course convenor, Dr Kalonia, says I should get involved with this heavy metals filtration project she’s part of, for the practical portion of my degree. It does sound great, it’s really relevant to mining impact. But usually someone more experienced would be invited… so I don’t know. I don’t want to be the know-nothing undergraduate everyone wishes wasn’t there.”

She picks small pieces off the corner of her biscuit box.

Ben itches to hold her, wipe the downcast lack of confidence from her face and posture – it’s so misplaced he can barely stand it, feels it ache in his chest.

“Rey, you’re very smart, you know that right?” he says decisively, searching her face until she nods.

“You received an academic scholarship, you said. You’re being _invited_ by an expert to take part in her project. She wouldn’t ask if she didn’t want you. We don’t mentor law students in our offices unless we’re genuinely interested.”

Her eyes on him have grown soft, only a small wrinkle left between her brows. He wants to smooth it away – his thumb would be the perfect size.

“You had a rough start in life but you’ve really worked hard and you want to help people. It’s _good_ enough, you’re doing _so well_.”

Rey seems to glow under his praise and Ben stamps down his urge to tell her more, so much more – that she’s such a good girl.

Releasing a shaky puff of air she waves her tile stand. “Thank you Ben, you’re lovely. Heavy topic. Shall we?”

His self-depreciating retort to her compliment is bitten off when she stretches, arching her back and showing a sliver of smooth stomach in a way that makes his breath hitch.

_My hands would fit right around Rey’s waist_ … _No, this is going well now, don’t ruin it._

“Are you…” Ben clears his throat. “Are you settled in here now? Doing ok?”

“Yeah I’m bearing up fine. Missing Rosie and everyone but at least there’s video chat. It’s a bit odd university being postponed. What about you, Ben?”

Her look of concern is so earnest. He blinks.

“Me? Well, I— I like my routine. I think I’m most missing the gym, being able to deadlift. And after-work drinks with Phasma and Hux. They’re the other named partners. Even with Phas’ evil looks over her soda at me and her cousin while we drink whiskey – she’s pregnant.” He huffs, shaking his head with amusement.

Rey laughs. “Then you two definitely deserve it, hope she hogs all the pub snacks in revenge. Well… I’m glad I ended up with good company.”

Ben gives a soft smile back as his heart thumps in his chest. But of course she’s going to enjoy it better here than at a safety shelter.

* * *

They bicker good naturedly over Imperial spelling and whether there’s an unfair advantage to using obscure legal terms. They’re full and she’s smiling and he thinks he might really be happy too. Especially causing her to look like this. Especially when he catches himself smiling back.

It's not that he’s necessarily been unhappy in this over-sized apartment, more that he’d not known what there was to miss – how fulfilling it could be.

He stamps down on the well of bittersweet feeling and focusses on just enjoying tonight. Like he would with another friend… if he ever invited them over here, as Hux enjoyed pointing out.

Their new combined playlist Rey made flicks to [one of his songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJ1l4UJW04Y).

She cocks her head listening to the opening lines and makes a small, delighted sound as if discovering something she likes. “Oh, Ben, this is your theme song!”

He chuffs, watching as she bops her head and screws up her nose in amusement over the board.

> _I don't go to parties baby_
> 
> _'Cause people tend to freak me out_
> 
> _Watch their lips to work it out_
> 
> _I can hear the words but I still don't know what it's all about_
> 
> _You won't see me down the disco mama_
> 
> _Bright lights really hurt my eyes_
> 
> _I'd rather stay and dance with you_
> 
> _To the funky music playing on our stereo_
> 
> _Ooh ooh, things don't get no better_
> 
> _Better than you and me_

* * *

Ben wakes with a small start and his hand jerking painfully against the coffee table. He’d been dreaming of his head in Rey’s lap, her small fingers carding through his hair.

The storm has quieted for the night and he’s still sitting but twisted sideways at the waist, with his neck very painfully cricked against the sofa arm. The pillows crushed uselessly underneath his back.

The more modern the sofa the less welcoming the arms, he thinks spitefully.

He’s not usually someone who can fall asleep in front of something noisy like a movie, but the static end screen on the TV is the first thing he sees as he adjusts his head.

That’s right, Rey had put on a film after their game.

Then he becomes aware of a warm lump pining his other arm against the sofa back and slumped against his chest, snuffling slightly.

Rey’s head is at an angle too and he should probably extract himself and rearrange her to sleep better against the pillows but she might get cold— Ben stays a while just like he is, spasming trapezius included.

Looking down at her lashes lying on her cheek, her freckles smattering her nose.

The small twitches of her soft pink mouth in sleep. Kriff, _her mouth_. One little hand resting curled against his pectoral, rising and falling with his chest.

It’s only when he realises he’s caressing a lock of her hair between his fingers that Ben curses himself. 

_I can’t act proprietary, it’s inappropriate_.

He rubs his eyes. 

_I don’t want to be that kind of man. At least Rey seems to be becoming a friend. Not that it’s easy to tell when a friendship begins_.

She’s sleeping like she’s in a coma and is drooling a bit besides, so Ben grabs her blanket and her porg from where it’s rolled beneath the coffee table and gently gathers her up.

Her head is cradled against his chest as he carries her to her room, an imprint on her cheek from his shirt buttons. And he can tell now that her hair smells a like his brand of bath products and currently _his_ cologne too.

She’s painfully beautiful, feels so _right_ in his arms. Her slight form doesn’t wake as he deposits her carefully on her bed and tucks her duvet and blanket around her. Wishing they’d met in a less pressured way, where pursuing her wouldn’t give him the nauseating fear of being coercive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🧡 Thanks for kudos and comments! 🧡
> 
> [Silver Sea](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Silver_Sea/Legends).
> 
> [Asajj Ventress](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Asajj_Ventress/Legends) whom I love, but not as much as Phasma does.
> 
> Hands up if [Labyrinth](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labyrinth_\(1986_film\)) was a bit of a D/s awakening... Teenaged me: Sarah, stay there. Adult me: same tho. (Ludo’s Kindergarten would be great.)
> 
> [Tai](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tai), AKA younger Ben's uni boyfriend.
> 
> Amilyn + [Mara Jade](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Mara_Jade_Skywalker) is another power couple I want. Joldo? Amilara?
> 
> [Gideon Hask](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Gideon_Hask).
> 
> Bazine fan squad! I'm not a fan of how often she's a 'female competition over a man' character tbh.
> 
> [Borcatu](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Borcatu/Legends). Feels like the reaction Australians give when I've been there & said ibises (AKA ‘bin chickens’) are cute... but I also like pineapple on pizza so FIGHT ME.
> 
> Here's another [fluffy, smutty one-shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497716) I wrote a few days ago.


	4. Shift in the Forecast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Benjamin Bail Chewbacca Organa Solo. You didn’t tell me you had company.”_   
>  _His mother narrows her eyes and he hears Rey's amused snort, quickly turned into a cough, from behind him._
> 
> _Ideally they would meet at some point... just not before he’s sorted out a few rather key factors._
> 
> _“Very hospitable of you offering your space. I’ve always felt it was too big for a single man.” Leia grins knowingly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [stares in 2020]  
> Yeah, so. Went through a bit of Am Not Writing, but Am Now Writing. I did the next chapter essentially at the same time so that should be up within a couple of days too (I didn’t have the bravery to post a single chapter that long).
> 
> Appendix in endnotes.

The persistent howling of the wind grows for four days as does Rey’s anxiety. Where previously the Hothstorm had an element that was soporific it is now deeply unsettling.

The forecast predicts a long blizzard, like a famous storm fifteen years ago that’s news to her. It doesn’t take long before Ben firmly suggests she do something less stressful than fixating on the ChandrilaMet weather channel.

The building is stable, at least. It doesn’t creak and nothing seems to have blown off it, but there’s something about the pitch to the wind that stirs old memories of sandstorms in Jakk’u and less secure surroundings.

Calling Maz and emailing Finn (resigned that it’s unlikely he’ll be able to respond) took some of the edge off, but she worries about him and Poe, too.

Yet while initially she hid, curled in an old, familiar way under her duvet with Ben’s gratefully accepted offering of high-end, noise cancelling headphones and her laptop, she’s started to feel increasingly mulish.

Yesterday she’d attempted to relax with video yoga on the living room rug and had tried to cajole Ben into joining her; things are easier with him there.

Not only did he decline but when the online video’s flow took her from downward facing dogto a wide-legged forward bend he left the sofa and all but fled the room, saying he’d prefer to train with some weights.

It wasn’t as fun alone so she packed it in; the lace on her heart-patterned pyjama shorts had been chafing anyway.

She has dragged herself with noble intentions to that third bedroom to size up his modest collection of dumbbells – only to sit on the padded bench and kick at them. Then bounce obstinately on his second guest bed.

He’s been spending more time in there recently, mostly late at night when she’s in her room.

She’s glad it helps him cope because in the moments when he’s most quiet and sullen _her_ urge is to reach out and poke her fingers in where his dimples should be, see if she can make him laugh and pull up his cheeks into a smile beneath those deep whiskey eyes. She’s kept her hands to herself.

Rey is fractious, _knows_ she gets into a wicked humour when deprived of her usual ways of blowing off her considerable steam at the best of times.

Even last week when Ben’s toaster had seemed to be sub-optimally popping toasted bread, Rey had dug through her boxes for her toolkit and set to work spread across his dining table.

Ben took one look at her wrinkled brow and the mess of parts and wires, opened his mouth, closed it, and poured himself a stiff drink. It was only lunchtime.

In her defence, it’s since been working like new.

Rey stares out her window vengefully at the swirling, obstructive white in the late morning, chewing a mouthful of (superior) toast with muja jam and sipping tea. Cursing the blanketing snow.

She’s had her time to settle into this space, now she wants to explore and feel like she’s conquering something, however small – no wonder after two and a half weeks without anything usual about her life or even once being outdoors. No running or long walks.

First she finally tackles her increasingly dire laundry situation, throwing all her dirty clothing into Ben’s machine – there’s no more packet underwear to be had in her boxes and she’s come to like wearing Rose’s joke gift in a way she doesn’t yet want to analyse.

The word doesn’t seem as silly now, when it’s something secret beneath her clothes.

With her large, purple jumper pulled over her hoodie and another long-sleeved top (and her porg toy hidden comfortingly against her belly) she strides purposefully for the entranceway and her winter boots.

It’s Ben in casual clothing that stops her short of her target.

He’s stretched out across the plush bay window seat where she’s seen more of him recently, in his reading glasses and a chunky, grey marl cardigan over a white t-shirt and dark jeans that look far more tailored than hers.

Cradling a book with his head on the cushions and one arm thrown above, taking up so much space his long legs bend at the knee.

His little focussed frown and the rather academic effect is extremely distracting, and it’s the first time she’s glimpsed more of his scar.

Still pale travelling downward but growing thicker, perhaps the width of her little finger as it disappears beneath where the low t-shirt neck begins to swell over his upper chest.

_He’s more beautiful the more I see of him_.

Looking up he swallows, expression faltering for a moment and eyes assessing her as if waiting for a comment, before he tilts down his book.

“Good morning, for—” he checks his elegant wristwatch— “a little longer at least.” A smile sweeps across his face, warm and genuine with a hint of humour. “Have you eaten?”

“G’morning, yeah I have thanks. You’re out early.”

“I decided what my weekend didn’t need was billable hours.”

“R’iia’s shorts, is it Saturday? Days have lost their meaning to me.”

“It’s a bit like that,” he chuckles. “I’m trying not to just work through.”

A whining gust of Hothstorm wind cuts into their conversation and Rey jumps, her porg dropping out of her hoodie.

Ben’s brow knits with concern and he swings down his legs, jerking a hand toward her before pulling up short. He pauses, collecting her porg and placing it on the cushions across from him.

He pats the seat, voice low and smooth. “Come, sit with me and..?”

“Just Porg.” Her face heats but there’s no mockery in his gaze at walking around with hidden cargo. For a moment it’s utterly soft.

“Porg here. I’m finding it difficult to settle too. So I’m reminding myself here by the window that it’s just weather and we’re safe inside. Kenobi built with Chandrila conditions in mind, this place isn’t going anywhere.” He presses his lips, forehead creasing in earnest understanding.

There’s a small flood of relief through her over the building, and his attention is as impossible to resist as ever, so Rey curls herself on the bay window, her feet almost touching his denim-clad thighs.

Temping to just reach out a foot – she imagines him peeling off a sock and rubbing it.

This close she can smell his cologne again, the same spicy, deep scent she’d caught a whiff of a week ago on her hair and hoodie upon waking. She hasn’t been able to shake the idea that Ben might have carried her to bed, unable to remember getting there otherwise.

But she has been known to stumble in and pass out after a marathon of TV or staying up too late with a very good book. It’s not like she can just ask him – how mortifying to be caught assuming that, if he says no.

“Um, so what are you reading?”

Ben turns the cover toward her.

“Oh! I’ve read all his stuff so many times! I didn’t see it on the shelves.”

“Ah, me too. It was in my bedroom. You like it a lot?” Ben takes off his glasses with fond attention.

“One of my favourites. ‘ _I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be_ ’.”

“I’ve just passed that bit, I should’ve known you’d have good taste.”

This makes her smile while nibbling her lip. “When I was younger the escape, the humour, it was everything to me. Maz had a couple of his books when I was placed with her and she bought me the rest. I hadn’t had any of my own books before that. Just the times when I was left in a library—” his knuckles whiten where they grip the book spine— “but I was a voracious reader when I could be. I was so angry and withdrawn when she took me in. His works gave me somewhere to escape to that was _just mine_. I was hooked.”

Ben presses his lips together and nods. Giving quiet understanding rather than pity, making the bittersweet easier.

“I’m glad you had that. Reading was always my escape too, still is.” He toys with a glasses arm. “Books are the ultimate gateway to any place or person you want, for however long you need. Familiar works are like a favourite blanket I think, especially when things are rough. I’ll bring the rest of these out here for you.”

They sit for a time discussing their favourites before Ben tilts his head with curiosity at her heavily layered top half. “Do you need the heat up further? I’m cooler here by the window panes so if you do…”

“Oh, no I was going to explore the building—” Ben frowns— “Is… that alright?”

‘Yes, sorry. Of course it is. Just… take my keys. And please be careful, come back before you get too cold. The common areas are only on emergency heating. My gloves are in the entranceway if you need them. Take a coat.”

“I don’t have one at the moment, it ripped too badly to mend, but all this will do.” She gestures to her bulk.

“ _Rey_ take mine.” It’s almost a growl, she supresses a shiver.

Despite his now familiar care and kindness she loves receiving, the last thing Rey wants is yards of heavy excess sleeve when she’s trying to take photos for Rose. “I’ll be fine!”

Ben looks set to get up after her so she scurries away giving assurances.

* * *

The borcatu venturing from its nest to poke about… she quite likes that idea now.

One flight of stairs above ends in a locked door, probably to an attic in the roof, so Rey focusses her attention downstairs.

It’s strange, being back in this space she’d so briefly encountered and hasn’t seen since despite existing only meters away.

A sense of unreality follows her into the lift – toeing that same patch of tile with her same boot – and down to the lobby.

When the elevator doors open she pulls her jumper tighter against the frigid blast of air. It’s nothing compared to what’s happening outside but enough that… she does wish she’d worn Ben’s designer outerwear and thicker trousers.

The space is illuminated only by what little light comes through the filigree windows and the squall outside, with everything else switched off.

Big clumps of wet snow hit the bronze-bordered, frost-covered glass of the building’s front doors above where the snow has piled over halfway up.

She stands as close as she dares for a long moment before the radiating deep freeze sees her retreat further into the lobby, as any attempt to face down the elements always would.

Rey greets the dancing mosaic like an old friend, running her full palm across it with a smirk and no witnesses. But she retracts her hand tingling with cold, shoving it back in Ben’s oversized glove and under her armpit to warm.

She peers against the padlocked glass doors that lead into the dark café and gallery, wonders how the greenery is staying that way in the stone planters without staff on the desk, and takes photos of anything that catches her eye for Rose.

And she does feel better too, no longer hiding.

She’s plodding up the curved staircase, sending Rose the images with a cold thumb and exchanging colourful opinions about the temperature, when footsteps slowly approach – loud in the lofty stone room.

Startling, she almost misses a step.

An elderly figure clad in a large overcoat and a woolly hat makes his way downward, holding both the railing and a watering can. That answers that question then.

His deeply lined, russet face is unusually ruddy, probably from the cold, and lights up with an open smile.

“Bleak isn’t it?” he asks in a creaking voice.

“Oh, hello, very! I’m Rey, I’m staying with—”

“Ah, young Benjamin. He’s mentioned you.” The man’s bright, tawny eyes twinkle. “You must make a handsome couple.”

She flushes like an exposed nerve. “Oh we’re—”

“I’m sure you’ll both be happy to go out courting again once this mess is over. I remember when my youngest was stepping out with the man who became her husband, he was always quite impatient. Terribly scared of me too which we all found very amusing; I never did find it easy to play the taskmaster in my civilian life.”

He’s friendly and loquacious and by the time Rey can get a word in it’s too awkward to try to correct him again.

“You must be Mr Ackbar then.”

“Yes dear, _do_ excuse my lack of introduction, I can be quite forgetful. But I am flattered he’s mentioned me. Lovely boy, always was. Sensitive child, I’ve known the family for a long time. But very kind, even with that blip with— Well, you just let me know if he’s ever not treating you well and I’ll give him a right talking to.”

“Ben’s wonderful!” she replies with heat. “He’s very good to me, he’s kind and intelligent and very— h-he’s great.”

His elderly neighbour really doesn’t need to hear her bumbling, extended appreciation for Ben’s physical attributes as well.

Mr Ackbar presses his lips together with some amusement and she has the sensation of having been expertly directed into an area of conversation quite without her realising it.

“I’m very glad to hear it, it’s obvious he feels the same about you.”

“Oh! D-Does he? I mean— that’s good.” Rey stumbles over her tongue in her eagerness, wondering if there’s some subtle way she can find out what Ben’s said.

“Oh yes, the way he’s looked when he’s mentioned you. I’ve not seen him blush like that since he was a boy and someone would comment on his growth rate. He thinks you’re very clever too, quite the bee’s knees.”

Parts of this she can believe at least, remembering Ben’s earnest praise about her studies.

Praise that has replayed in her mind since that night.

But so too does she recall her speculation over who Ben would really want long-term, and he doesn’t seem the type to really be so forthcoming. She worries her lip.

“If you’ve known his family for a long time, are all their friends also— high profile? All the people they… associate with?”

Ackbar gives her a considering look, tilting his head. It’s disconcerting feeling she’s being read like a book.

“My late wife Meena and I met in quite dreadful weather you know, a little like this. Back in Dac, you must have heard of the flooding.”

Rey nods, prepared for another detouring story rather than intel.

“I hadn’t made Admiral at that time of course, but I was still in a command position. Had the family name behind me and all the rest of it. It was during a meeting for military flood relief. We’d paused for luncheon and she spilled soup in my lap, she was terribly embarrassed about it. Meena was working in the kitchens on base, you see. Ahh… she was the love of my life.” He’s far away, misty for a moment.

“I set about courting her and she was hesitant at first, given our backgrounds. But I would have got on bended knee for her if she was wearing a charbote root sack. Did, in fact, when she was still in her work apron. And she ended up being brilliant at logistics. I’m sorry dear, what was your question?”

Rey is about to answer but notes his keen observation of her face. Not quite the doddery old man.

She smiles softly. “Thank you.”

“I like to think Ben and I share some opinions, you see. Especially with his father’s background, although that’s not my story to tell. Ben is a good man. So you two keep enjoying each other’s company and thank him again for that pasta dish. He really is a _very_ good cook.”

Mr— Admiral Ackbar pats her shoulder. “Lovely to meet you, Rey. I’ll see to the plants then take the stairs up again, that’s my spot of exercise for the day and working my green thumb. Got to keep these old bones moving!”

He’s given her a lot to think about, but trying to nudge someone over the line of friendship… she’s never actually done that before. Apps and being set up by mutual friends is a bit easier.

Add to that Ben’s mixed signals – if they’re even signals – and the terrifying idea of really pursuing someone older and more established rather than leaving them safely in the realm of fantasy… her gut churns all the more at the possible humiliation.

There’s a deep vulnerability to Ben and history beneath the surface, she knows that much, so would he even tell her if she made him uncomfortable? It’s not like he could ask her to leave.

**************

The dumbbells drop to the floor with a thud as Ben sits heavily on the gym bench before remembering he should be more considerate of his lower neighbours. At least the Historic Places Trust office directly below him is currently unoccupied for the storm.

He’s worked off his ire. Mostly at not being able to push his point, earlier, or follow after Rey with a coat. With what she is to him it’s not his place, however much he’d like it to be.

But he will overstep if he doesn’t hear her arrive home soon, he thinks, wiping down the bench.

There’s time for a shower before calling his mother and he grimaces to himself with a twinge of guilt as he turns off his music.

Because she’s right; introverted or not, and as resistant to video chat outside its current professional necessity as he is, this probably isn’t the time where only messages and a couple of phone calls exchanged between them will cut it.

Leia Organa has finally put her small, stylishly clad foot down via sternly worded missive; she wants real-time, visual evidence of how her son is doing.

Which may be another reason he’s been avoiding it… the possible complication.

Ben passes through the laundry doorway deep in thought and is halfway to removing his sweat-soaked t-shirt when he ploughs into something smaller and softer that makes a sharp grunt.

He looks down to Rey – face still red from the cold – and a pile of wet washing that’s now all over the floor. He stops dead, about to apologise, but her gaze doesn’t rise to his face. Instead, are… her eyes fixed on his belly?

Her slightly parted lips, eyes darkening – unless it’s the lighting.

_But I know that look, I think. I’ve seen hunger like that before, it’s not like I’m inexperienced._

Ben lowers his shirt with an experimental flex of his abdominals and she wets her lips before her eyes flick to his face.

_Yes_ , then.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" she squeaks, cheeks pinkening further.

"No, no I ran into you, I apologise. Let me help with this."

She opens her mouth but Ben is already gathering up her wet clothing, needing something to do with his hands, buying himself a moment to gather his swirling thoughts.

Her t-shirts and pants, there are a few of them. Socks and—

underwear.

He swallows, understanding her hesitation now, of course. Turning over his hand to see both plain black lace and… _Daddy_ emblazoned on another pink spotted, blue cotton pair.

Can panties mock? These damp undergarments are mocking him. _Kriff_.

Thanks to the Elders Rey's attention is on a sock that's down the side of the washer as he hurriedly gathers an armful, his mouth dry, wondering how on earth he can bring this up and not be a creep.

_Hey so I think you might be a little bit interested in me after all and I can be slow on the uptake with that unless it’s explicit, but I happen to have experience in this dynamic and would like to lead you through it. Just coincidentally, if that is your thing. Nothing to do with any cute cotton items. That's private, obviously._

She stuffs her pile in the dryer and takes his too while he sits back on his haunches in thought.

Until he realises just how much washing there is, like she’s not done laundry for a while.

“Please don’t overload the washer in future,” Ben frowns. “Just do as many loads as you need, I’ll help if you want.”

“ _Yes sir!_ ” she says with a small chuff of laughter. “Will do… sorry… some of this is still from couch surfing. I didn’t realise how it’d built up.”

“I don’t— want flooding. That’s all. Thank you.” His voice is stilted and thick to his own ears but she simply finishes up and leaves with a small, hesitant smile, nibbling her lip.

The dryer begins its rhythmic churning as he stays crouched.

Guileless. There was no attempt at charm in her turn of phrase, only humour.

Her comfort items, her musical choices, how she’s fallen into the role of being looked after and on occasion responded in a meltingly compliant way when he’s been sterner than he should…

He turns these thoughts over in his mind, adding things up, and as much as he’s found all of this evocative he’s fairly sure now that she’s unconscious about most of it, or at least not experienced at leaning into being a little, precious thing in the bedroom. The panties are an element he very much doubts she’s acted on.

If there is mutual interest to be explored it’s going to take extra care on his part.

He can’t proceed with Rey like they’ve met in a way where tastes are already explicit and laid on the table, particularly with her being more vulnerable at the moment.

Seeing her anxious during the day and wondering if she’s unable to sleep at night has been keeping him awake too.

It’s difficult each evening resisting the impulse to invite her into his room, just so he can keep an eye on her. Or hold her, especially remembering how she’d felt in his arms.

So Ben has options.

Simply not bringing it up… no, he doesn’t want that. Not when a door he’d assumed was firmly shut has cracked open. Not when continuing on as normal and merely adding a potent visual image and her laughing ‘ _Yes_ _sir!_ ’ to his inner erotic library seems like torture.

He hasn’t done so well at avoiding thinking of her like that as it is.

Badly, in fact. Badly and recently, daily – thoughts of Rey waking beside him soft and warm and well-fed are enough on their own to make him hard.

It’s a wild thing, his imagination now. Filled with all the aspects in which they might be compatible, in ways he’d tried not to let himself hope.

Taking extra care is certainly something he can do – with her it comes surprisingly naturally, easing back some of his old fears so gradually that he realised this morning it’s been days without him being scared of hurting her simply by being himself.

He’s been so much more relaxed… aside from a few testing incidences.

This intimacy of living together has let him see what their life could be like and Ben can admit that more than anything he wants a _real_ relationship with Rey.

Especially after her lack of reaction to his scar in the t-shirt he’d chanced wearing, all their recent conversations and her quick laughter and wit. Her acceptance. The enraging thought of her suffering when she was younger.

These last two and a half weeks have been deeply fulfilling in a way his prior agreements since university never were. Pairings of exclusive sex and him buying expensive meals and gifts – always keeping them carefully at arm’s length, and even less such contact while he was at his old job.

So this home-cooked closeness in his own space is entirely new and it’s scratched such an itch that it’s been hard to rein in his dominant side and keep his distance.

_Not having to hold myself back, well…_

Ben rubs a hand over his cold, sweat-dampened hair.

_That would be everything._

If he wants to know Rey is interested in him not just because she has no other in-person contact, then Hux is – unfortunately – correct. He needs to ask her.

And never admit that to his friend.

Ben can imagine his dad’s laugh and voice too, as clearly as if he’s in the room.

_You’re a fool for this girl already. Can’t fight your genes, kid_.

* * *

As if on cue an insistent tone sounds from far away; perhaps unsurprisingly his impatient mother has given up waiting and decided to call him herself.

Ben scrambles to his feet in the laundry and races to the empty living area where he left his tablet, jabbing at the screen before she cuts off.

Her dark sepia eyes crinkle happily as he sits in a chair pulled up to the breakfast nook, under the additional light from its large bay window.

Leia is in rude health and even with all government offices closed no lockdown will prevent her from being perfectly coiffed. Long silver coils cut with streaks of faded brown are braided over the crown of her head and outside of her current official hours she’s started early on her standard starblossom vodka sour.

“Benny! It’s been far too long since I’ve seen your face, you naughty boy. Wait, why do you look like that? Are you alright?” Her brick-red painted lips purse, accentuated by her usual careful powdering and blush atop her pale beige cheeks.

“I’ve been working out mom, it’s just sweat,” he says with a smile and an affectionate eye-roll, running a hand through his hair.

Leia blinks for a long moment before looking down and adjusting her sapphire blue, tailored waistcoat over her matching long-sleeved dress.

“Well, that’s good. Don’t catch a chill,” she says with some roughness to her voice. “I’m glad you’re staying active during this, I’ve worried about you there by yourself. I just wish you had come to us instead. Chewie misses you too, he’s struggling having to use puppy pads in the mudroom and only the run of the house, poor boy. He doesn’t understand the back yard ban.”

As much as Ben appreciates his greatly improved relationship with his parents over the last few years, that would have ended in mutual thoughts of strangulation. He suppresses a shudder.

“He misses those organic nerf treats I get for him. I’m doing fine, mom. Really, I’m doing well.”

Once her scolding for his lack of video contact is out of the way she settles in for a complain about issues at the ministry and with the opposition. It’s a familiar topic.

Ben has already zoned out, save for his practiced and grunts of assent or displeasure. Contemplating the roiling sky and churning snow outside, his caseload, and how he can plan his menu for the coming week around their food stores.

He’s just considering whether he should move to his study for this call when he hears a shuffle and catches a flash of colour from the corner of his eye.

In his own frame he sees that Rey has settled herself up on a stool at the end of the counter island behind him. Swinging her legs as she fixes some kind of food, but dipping into her bowl without any of her frequent barely domesticated intensity.

If she’s not holding herself back Rey eats... a little like a rancor he once saw at the zoo. He’d gripped the bars from his seat on Han’s shoulders and they’d stayed for feeding time. Ben was mesmerised.

In defiance of his previously held views on table manners he quite likes it when Rey lets herself go – especially the simple joy she takes in every fully cooked meal he makes for them.

He very much dislikes that she sometimes grips her plate as if worried someone might take it, probably something never unlearned from her childhood.

Ben’s chest clenches with a deep, protective impulse as he gazes at her. His lips twitch in a smile before he realises the implication of Rey, in camera shot, having changed into some typically minimal at-home clothing.

Oh.

Refocussing slowly on his mom’s face, there isthe mischievous look he expects that frequently spells trouble for anyone who witnesses it.

“ _Benjamin Bail Chewbacca Organa Solo_. You didn’t tell me you had company.” She narrows her eyes and he hears an amused snort, quickly turned into a cough, from behind him as Leia beckons a hand on screen.

Rey hops down with her food, padding over to his chair in sunflower patterned shorts and a thin t-shirt knotted above her navel.

Ben is accustomed to a lifetime of Organa determination, having matured in recent years to largely consider it more prudent to bend like a reed before the oncoming storm.

This is very far from ideal, but he won’t risk Rey feeling she’s not wanted.

Ideally… ideally they _would_ meet at some point, if things go well, just not before he’s sorted out a few rather key factors.

Yet currently his mother is looking with calculation between his expression, like an oro woods deer in the headlights, and his guest.

“Mom, this is Rey,” he says with a crack in his voice, clearing his throat before explaining the circumstances of their meeting. Assuring Leia, twice, that neither of them were injured or have lingering problems.

_Not that sort of problem anyway._

“I’m glad to hear you did the right thing Benny, very hospitable of you offering your space. I’ve always felt it was too big for a single man.” Leia grins knowingly.

“However, next time I expect to be informed immediately if my only child is in an accident! Hello Rey, dear, I hope my frustratingly tight-lipped son has been a good host.”

Rey appears struck by Leia’s wide smile and piercing gaze. She clutches her bowl to her chest.

“Hello, Mrs Organa—”

“Just Leia to you, dear.”

“Leia, it’s good to meet you.” She shuffles closer to Ben’s side, wiping some hair back and toying with the bunched hem of her t-shirt.

“Ben’s been really brilliant, we’ve been chatting quite a bit actually and I think we’ve got a lot in common, which— _thank Maker_ , because we’re in this mess of a storm together right? I’ve heard about your work, good things don’t worry. The people I know are the ones benefiting, so it’s nice to put a face to your name. I’ve not been in Chandrila long you see, I used to flat in Coruscant with my sister and I was heading back actually when I crashed and met Ben, he was so kind...”

Ben recognises now with affection that a nervous Rey babbles and he suffuses with warmth at how quick she is to compliment him.

As his mom peppers her with life and university questions he finds his eyes drawn down to her fidgeting hips.

He swallows violently.

She’s stepped closer, animated in her conversation, leaning into the side of his chair and gesticulating with her spoon. Still shovelling in the occasional mouthful.

There’s her scent again – warm with something fresh and herbaceous, and a hint of his guest toiletries. He longs to lean into it.

Her lightly muscled core, paler than the now fading light tan on her limbs, brushes against Ben’s bicep and he shivers.

She would be so sweet curled in his lap, gathered close, her bare legs small under his hands and—

_Oh Emperor’s black bones! Later, not on a video call to my mother. This is practically a delicate political negotiation_.

Ben subtly adjusts himself in his athletic shorts, slinging an ankle over a knee and bouncing it. Trying to focus on Rey’s face instead.

The distraction of her animated lips is not much better. They’d be soft against his own.

His reverie is disturbed by one question in particular.

“I really like your hair Leia, it must be so long to be able to do that.”

“Oh thank you dear, it’s an Alderaanian tradition. This is a family design my bisnonna taught me, Benny’s great-great-grandmother on my adopted side.” She pats her head. “Length does help for some of our more complicated braids but you have enough to do a few of them.”

Rey perks up with naive interest and he doesn’t miss the glint in his mom’s eye.

“Benny knows some, don’t you? Ask him some time, dear.”

Rey nods blithely and he opens his mouth because that’s _more_ than a little premature (not that the idea hasn’t popped into his head in occasional unguarded moments), but Leia steamrollers past.

Maternally induced fear, at least, does do something to cool the situation below his waistband.

“So, Rey, was your partner not able to help?” Leia twirls her large, curving gold and dual star sapphire ring. An Organa heirloom going back many generations.

“Oh, no I don’t have anyone like that. Um. No.”

Ben glares at his mother, even with a flare of relief at confirmation, and tries to ignore how Rey’s uneasy shifting from foot to foot is bouncing her hip against his chair.

“Rey, is that cereal shaped like mini cookies? Amazing how food’s changed,” Leia chortles, taking his hint to change tack.

Ben leans up and scowls into Rey’s bowl with its remnants of one of the so-called cereals she’d brought with her, not his, and—

“Is that _chocolate sauce?_ And it’s the afternoon! That’s not lunch.”

“Benny Chewbacca, I need my daily intake of Red 40, sugar, and Yellow 6. The sauce is just for seasoning.” She grins impishly around her spoon and his mom throws her head back laughing too. _Allied_.

He can feel his eye twitch and he’s briefly overwhelmed by an image of Rey bent over the table, shorts pulled down like the brat she is while she calls him a proper title (rather than _that_ most ridiculous middle name) and his hand lands again and again on her round—

This is not helping Ben’s current problem. He shakes himself.

“What did you have that’s so much better then, Mr Grumpy?”

“Two sandwiches and a protein shake,” he grits out.

She pulls a face before draining the dregs of chocolatey moof milk and cleaning her lips with her little pink tongue.

“Those shakes look weird! Leia, back me up, the five essential greens or whatever else is in them don’t give a pleasant colour. Not like delicious chocolate, you know where you stand with that.”

“She’s got a point, Benny,” his mom twinkles.

“He’s such a good cook though Leia, really. Especially dinners.” Rey glances at him as if worried to offend and his lips can’t help but move to a bashful smile.

“Is he now? That’s good to hear. Now Benny,” she adds, “may I talk to you about your father for a bit?”

**+++**

Leia Organa is not, by nature, a soft touch nor subtle in matters of importance. She’s built her career on it, correctly expecting to be underestimated, and prefers a full scale barrage as her standard approach to getting her way.

Neither Ben’s flustered state and sometimes outright stare in Rey’s direction, nor the reddened tips of his ears peeking through his damp hair, have escaped her notice.

Or the way the young woman tilts her body toward him, comfortable with a fair amount of bare skin in his personal space.

They’re like bitters in a sunberry cocktail, just the right balance together as far as she can see.

For those who know how to read Ben he’s always had tells when trying to cover something up. She doesn’t miss them – not when he’d snuck into her home office to have a poke around as a boy and claimed otherwise, and not now.

After that heart-breaking period of disconnection there’s nothing she wants more than to see him happy – not merely happi _er_ than he was back then, but still so hesitant to open himself up.

But she also knows,

> _‘When you surround an [unmarried child], leave an outlet free. Do not press a desperate [son] too hard.’_

She’s learned over the years the hard-won lesson of not pushing too much with Ben – by _her_ standards, admittedly – but can feel a wager shaping up with Han.

Rey’s hands look around the same size as her manoula’s, whose knuckles have expanded too much with age.

And so she takes a tactical approach.

**+++**

Ben’s heart thumps erratically as he shuts the door to his study.

“Mom, what do you mean? Is something wrong with dad?”

“He’s perfectly fine unless you count a persistent allergy to modern technology. I’ve told him he should video chat but he claims the camera is too unflattering. _Impossible_ man.”

He releases a relieved breath. “Right, ok, so what—”

“I actually want to know what is going on with Rey! I wondered why you’re suddenly smiling more, you looked so _young_ again Benny.”

Leia’s voice is thick with emotion and Ben sighs, biting back a curse. Knowing well the painful, densely rooted things beneath the meddling.

He never had an easy time trying to directly deceive her as a boy and can’t imagine he will now, so he cuts to the chase.

“I have been happier, yes. But nothing is currently going on between us.”

She arches a sculpted brow. “I’m not in my dotage quite yet. You’re clearly very interested in each other, don’t be obtuse. Haven’t you said anything to her?”

This assessment, with her practised, quick reads on people, lightens the weight of his earlier rumination. It’s good to know it’s not just wish fulfilment.

But there’s a sliver of irritation too.

“Let’s see, “ he counts on his fingers. “I only met her recently, she’s a lot younger, she’s trapped here living with me without a way to leave if I freak her out. So excuse my cautious approach.”

Leia’s expression turns mollified. “Well, alright then. I’m glad we raised you knowing that’s important. But twenty-four, I think she said, that’s hardly too young. How old was I when I met your father?”

Ben manages to extract himself before much longer without divulging anything further to his mom’s visible annoyance, and with the assertion that anything he does is going to be on his terms – he’s always hated being rushed by others.

Somewhat surprisingly she manages to hold her tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 💙 Kudos and comments always appreciated 💙
> 
> [Wide-legged forward bend](https://www.yogabasics.com/asana/wide-legged-forward-bend/). Poor Ben.
> 
> [Muja fruit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Muja_fruit).
> 
> Ben is reading [The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Long_Dark_Tea-Time_of_the_Soul), which I adore, and they're talking about Douglas Adams' work.
> 
> [Meena Tills](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Meena_Tills).
> 
> [Dac](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Dac) AKA Mon Calamari.
> 
> [Charbote root](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Charbote_root#:~:text=Charbote%20root%20was%20a%20vegetable,1%20in%20the%20Smuggler's%20Run.), a root vegetable.
> 
> [Starblossom](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Starblossom), an Alderaanian fruit.
> 
> [Oro woods](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Oro_wood) are an Alderaanian tree, red deer live in their forests.
> 
> '[Emperor's black bones](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Emperor%27s_black_bones)' is probably my favourite OTT in-universe curse.
> 
> Bisnonna = great-grandmother, Italian.
> 
> [Star sapphires](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Star_Sapphire) for Leia's TFA ring.
> 
> [Sunberry](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sunberry), a fruit from the forest moon of Endor.
> 
> Would Leia [quote The Art of War](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/56059-when-you-surround-an-army-leave-an-outlet-free-do#:~:text=Quotes%20%3E%20Quotable%20Quote-,%E2%80%9CWhen%20you%20surround%20an%20army%2C%20leave%20an%20outlet%20free.,a%20desperate%20foe%20too%20hard.%E2%80%9D) about meddling in her son's romantic life? Yes. Yes she would. She keeps one copy on her bedside table and one in her office and quotes it at Han when he leaves the toilet seat up.
> 
> Manoula = mother, Greek (Padmé).


	5. I'd Welcome a Thaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ben might have struggled with opening up for many years but it’s been easier with Rey already, building the beginnings of a connection that feels unlike what he’s had before._   
>  _She needs to know she deserves to be treated like she’s precious, especially for what he wants to do with her._   
>    
>  _And he’s sick of waiting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for:  
> Jealous Ben.  
> A little drunkenness.
> 
> This is effectively the second half of the last chapter. Wow, editing with a head-cold isn't fun. It's been feeling a little Hothstormy where I am recently.

Pushing aside her pile of clean washing, Rey pulls her duvet on top of her and stares up at the ceiling’s decorative coving. Trying desperately to process having an impromptu conversation with a public figure, while in her son’s home.

Her stomach gurgles, its cereal-related unease a punctuation against the noise outside.

She’s not sure why he didn’t tell his mother about her staying, but then she doesn’t know the intricacies of their relationship and what a thirty-four year old man might regularly share. If he was Poe the answer would be apparently almost everything, but Ben is far more reserved.

Rey doesn’t have a full basis for comparison. She loves Maz and they’re close in their own way, but she’d had other fosters to focus on too. After being with her for five years she’d say, from what she’s seen in the families of friends, that she’s more like an aunt.

His family is something she’d like to understand about his life, to help her piece together his hidden elements.

She’s also unsure if it’s good or bad liking Leia as much as she does and that appearing mutual (or the woman being a talented actor).

Good, because she felt no judgment from the rather renowned older woman for her clothing or less polished way of conducting herself (although she tried to have better manners).

It seems Ackbar was correct on that count; it looks likely that unlike many politicians she doesn’t have a divide between avowed politics and actual personal attitudes.

Bad, however, because the very idea of forming a friendly relationship with Ben’s mother feels like a perfectly ripe fruit dangling from a tree. She doesn’t know if the branch is really out of reach or just looks that way; whether she can have him and all the increased family relationships he would bring, the kinds she always craves more of.

Grandparents… family history. All of it.

It’s frightening, thinking of stretching out a hand to see if she can pluck the fruit. Risking coming back empty-handed on all counts.

Either way, she’s seen Ben almost shirtless and talked to his mother in short order (while trying not to imagine her son out of more of his clothes) – it’s a lot to sort out in her head.

Rubbing idly between her legs over her shorts for the comfort that provides, uneasy musings are quickly overridden by thoughts of the glimpsed uncovered portion of Ben’s solid, almost intimidatingly tall body.

Without regular exercise during this lockdown she’s a little softer herself, but in the laundry room she’d come face to face with the evidence that if the same holds true for him, he’s remained very defined by her standards.

Arms still corded and strong beneath his sleeves. His abdominals visible but with a layer of softness over them and a suggestive trail of dark hair above his low-slung shorts – a body made for strength rather than simply aesthetics.

Like he’s built himself through working out and eating up, with maybe a little less bulk overall compared to when they first met.

He’s got none of his usual deadlifts and probably a lot besides, she remembers.

Warmth coils in her belly and at the apex of her thighs. It reaches a demanding throb when she recalls her first, near mind-blanking thought after annoyance at her scattered washing – _good Maker, he could just throw me over his shoulder, move me however he wants_.

Rey hums to herself for a moment, grinding the heel of her palm into her mons until her thighs tense with want.

Yes. She needs this; it’ll take the edge off, allow her to think. To get the immediate rawness out of her system.

Stripping her bottom half in a perfunctory way she roots around in the bedside drawer for her suction toy, setting it aside to run her fingers up her slick vulva. Smearing her wetness over the skin she likes to keep mostly, but not entirely, smooth as something privately sensual, before rubbing lightly over her clit.

Teasing herself as she imagines Ben would; she knows his resolute personality enough by now, bets he’d know _just_ what to do for her.

Maybe he’d call her baby too, and make sure she listened to him.

Rey is easily the least experienced of her friends, usually having been focussed on something else in the past – making ends meet, her found family, study or friends. So she can’t quite say what that would mean, the specifics of him taking charge, but he seems the type to want it.

It would make a welcome change from being the one giving frustrating, poorly-followed instructions that have been anything but arousing.

_Sir_ had been a joke, earlier in the laundry room, but as soon as it passed her lips her mind had snapped to this direction her recent fantasies have taken. The implication, new as it was, had made it difficult not to blush even further after she’d been staring.

She could have sworn that for a fleeting moment when he’d glanced at her, his gaze had been heated, different, surprisingly open.

While massaging her slippery clitoral hood it’s his large hands she’d rather have there, to run her fingers over his broad form and feel his weight on her. To give him pleasure as well, if he could show her how.

To have him be demanding yet gentle just like that flint in his baritone he sometimes gets that always still feels safe.

He seems the type who would be concerned enough to notice if she wasn’t making the best decisions for herself, which she can admit does happen, and not infrequently.

When life gets hard or money is tight it’s usually her self-care that suffers.

She likes making Ben happy and being the recipient of his now more frequent smiles, but has also found teasing provides a certain thrill when there’s a likelihood how stern he’ll sound in response will give her that soft, warm, settled feeling she’s come to crave.

Rey is starting to think Rose is right about hidden kinks… she’s always been perceptive.

Squirming, flexing her glutes against the sheets and worked up enough, Rey places her suction toy over her clit. The pressure accompanying the low thrum causes a small whimper to escape her lips and spreading her thighs as wide as she can, she slides two fingers easily into her trembling cunt, so wet with her arousal.

Feeling desperate, _needing_ to clench around something.

The angle’s not quite right – she has to bend at her side and hook her elbow against her hip – but right now she has to have another finger; three to stretch and push to the knuckles as deep as she can reach. Just to feel some fullness, to give the orgasm she’s chasing a little edge.

It’s something she never usually does, just inserting one to feel something there if she even bothers while focussing on her clit. Penetration has always felt overrated.

But right now she’s imagining Ben’s dark head of hair against her mons instead as he licks and sucks at her sensitive little nub.

His massive hands gripping her legs so tightly she can’t move. _His_ thick, much longer fingers filling her up and making these noises. Noises that sound far wetter than they should for how little she’s moving her hand.

This is the closest thing she has to what she envisions, given the size of him.

Fuck… is the rest of him proportional?

Remembering his deep, caring voice telling her she’s doing _so well_ , that she’s _good_ , Rey comes hard after only minutes, to her surprise.

Kicking out a leg and pulsing around her fingers with a high grunt that turns into a silent yell, biting back a garbled mix of _Sir_ and _Ben_ as the pleasure in her cunt draws out for far longer than usual.

Her heartbeat is in her ears, mouth hanging open.

Coming down, sensitive and tingly, she’s as much impressed by how _good_ that was as she is somewhat confused. Is this what she’s like, now? What she wants to experience?

It seems so.

* * *

When Rey eventually returns to the living area Ben is back in his morning’s clothes and making caf, his favourite at any time of day.

_Yes_ … _he’s strong, but not all sharp angles._ _He’d still be comfortable to be held by and curl into._

She hums to herself, watching as he displays his wide arm-span reaching for a mug.

His hair looks suspiciously like it’s been blow-dried after a shower, which would explain some of his immaculate appearance from their first encounter and also why hers never looks like that.

It’s pretty bloody awkward encountering the person she’s masturbated over after the deed, Rey has discovered for the first time since staying in this apartment.

As irrational as it is there’s a fear he’ll somehow _know_ , an embarrassment being that currently he’s just a new friend.

Finn and Poe would no doubt both laughingly tell her that this is a common experience for many since adolescence.

She pads around the counter island to lean on her elbows while Ben works behind her at his coffeemaker.

Thoughts of her friends and the whine of the wind renew feelings of self-pity at being stuck indoors and not going anywhere new.

“Is your dad alright?” she asks quietly, flicking through her phone’s photos.

The noises of his movements still for a moment. “Oh, uh yes. He’s fine. All fine now. Thank you. Nothing to worry about.”

“That’s good,” she murmurs, pausing on a picture of Poe with an arm squeezing around her waist while she steadies herself clutching his shoulder, during a night out.

His olive skin bronzed by the sun at that time of year, face spanned by a wide smile on a strong jaw, with kind, brown eyes.

She remembers how Finn had told bad jokes to get them to laugh when taking this photo – some aimed at Poe’s ‘action hero’ short, brunette waves and some at her complaints over the strappy, slightly small heels she’d borrowed from Kaydel to match the short, blue, sequinned dress Paige had loaned.

As happy as she is to have met Ben, it’s a reminder of what she can’t currently do and who she can barely even contact right now.

Rey sighs.

Preoccupied as she is she hasn’t noticed Ben moving until he’s right behind her and leaning over. Instantly she’s aware of every muscle movement she makes and each breath, how easily he could cage her in against the granite countertop with his hands on her hips...

“Who’s this?” The displeased edge to his voice is a surprise.

Glancing back, she’s faced with the beginnings of the sort of scowl she’s not seen on him for a little while.

He’s looking hard at her phone like the screen’s just developed a crack or he wants to cause one.

“That’s Poe I’ve mentioned, who barely made me pay anything for my car,” she tells him, confused. “I think he’s too much of a soft touch sometimes. That was such a great night, although I almost rolled an ankle in those bloody borrowed shoes not long after.”

Ben shifts to grab his drink and leans against the counter beside her.

“ _Poe_ —“ He clears his throat. “You said he’s around my age, I think? Do you see a lot of him, usually?”

His voice is low and deliberate and his eyes have done the shuttered thing they sometimes do, even as he watches her intently.

“Yup, he’s thirty-two. I see him a decent amount for obvious reasons. He’s lovely, super social so you couldn’t keep him away from an event.”

“Is that your preference? Very social?”

Rey wrinkles her brow, not quite understanding the question. She likes a mix of things with her friends, nights out as much as quiet time spent in.

“Well if I’m going somewhere rowdy… But, I mean it’s also not much Rosie’s older sister Paige and her girlfriend Kaydel’s scene so they don’t go.”

She hums thoughtfully, remembering the games nights Poe likes to organise and the always popular potlucks with dancing. She often ends the night tipsy in an impromptu duet with Finn (who hates event planning but enjoys his partner’s results), which Poe doesn’t miss a chance to video.

“Poe definitely likes hosting at home too. More intimate stuff.”

Ben swallows, glower deepening. His voice growing oddly strained. “Is he— does he pay you a lot of attention?”

Rey thinks of how she and Rose can get… boisterous, as Poe and Finn have termed it, when they go out.

Finn is really no better, despite his denials and teasing that he’s just so much more mature at twenty-six (even though he’s only eight months older than Rose). As the eldest of their group Poe feels responsible for all of them when they have occasionally indulged too much, and helps fend off unwanted advances.

“Yeah. Poe’s protective when we go out. Always keeping an eye open, he’s lovely like that. Fun but responsible, you know? I do feel safer that way, obviously. He’s helped me home a couple of times when I was a bit legless. But I don’t drink like that as a habit when I’m out these days,” she hastens to add about past, youthful recklessness.

Ben’s nostrils flare and his first sip of caf is aborted on its way to his mouth. He may even be grinding his teeth the way his jaw is flexing.

“Surely you’re not really unaware he’s _clearly_ —” Ben growls softly before his mouth snaps shut and he rakes a hand through his hair, ruining the careful coif.

Leaning back he looks like he’s having an internal argument, coiled and itching to say more. A small muscle under his eye twitches.

Rey has a direct and electric kind of thought, watching how he’s unravelling in front of her.

The kind that would usually remain unhelpfully undeveloped as a sort of prickling from her subconscious, stubbornly just out of reach.

Did she explicitly tell him that Poe and Finn are together or did she just assume he knew, as if he’s part of the group?

 _Oh_. Upon reflection…

This is daring, for her, but she remembers what was relayed that morning by what looks to be an increasingly reliable source – apparently _she_ makes Ben Solo blush.

Perhaps she can see if that’s true. If, as it seems, he’s got strong feelings about someone being interested in her in a non-platonic way.

Her heartrate picks up at the implication and part of her doesn’t want to know at all, just in case she’s mistaken. Recent stresses would make that extra hard to deal with right now.

It’s her internal Rose that gives her a push.

“Why are you angry, Ben?” she breaks the silence, watching him out of the corner of her eye while giving the appearance of fiddling with her phone.

He doesn’t reply, trying to smooth his face very blank. Carefully so, she’d say, and with mixed success as he takes that sip.

Rey bristles when it appears he’s still having a deep inner conversation.

_Alright then, fine._

“It’s good that Poe’s older, I think. He’s taught me some Yavin salsa and merengue too, they’re fun. That’s where his parents are from, he’s kriffing skilled at dancing. I’ve found it takes a lot of practice moving so closely. I bet he’ll want to go out for it when the Hothstorm is over, he said I make a good partner.”

Nothing she’s said is _technically_ untrue – Poe’s more established career helped him and Finn fast-track their purchase of a scenic Junari Point home not far out of Chandrila, and learning to dance _is_ fun.

Ben’s expression shifts to thunderous, sending her reeling – at least inwardly. It’s the confirmation she needs at having cracked some of his controlled exterior to find a truer sentiment beneath.

There’s a buzzing in her ears and she tries to slow her breathing, this information more than she knows what to do with in the present moment.

In and of itself having someone be possessive over her is a new and surprisingly welcome experience, she realises with a guilty thrill. It’s heady and exciting, better than any blush. Especially that it’s him paying her this sort of attention.

Or maybe it’s not so unexpected she enjoys it, given her history.

“That’s how my good friend Finn met Poe, on one of our nights out a few years ago,” she says as evenly as she can, quietly defusing a bomb while swiping to the next photo on her phone and tilting the screen toward him.

It’s a shot she’d taken of the couple later that same evening, by which point those heels had been in her hand. It captures Poe kissing the corner of Finn’s dimpling smile and ruffling the short, tight black curls framing his glowing cheeks and deep umber face.

“Rosie knew Poe from an internship at the aerospace engineering firm he works for in Corulag. I think Finn was especially impressed by his dancing to be honest, they hit it off immediately.”

Ben’s gone very still. “Poe and Finn?”

“Yeah, they’ve been together ever since. Acting like the old married couple of our group. Now they’re stuck at that remote retreat like I mentioned. I’ve been worried about them.”

Ben sags, rubbing his face and swearing under his breath.

“Right. Yeah. They look good together. I-I’m sure they’ll be fine, hotels make provisions for these events. And I’m glad he’s looked out for you.”

Rey hears this as she moves to grab herself something to drink behind the shield of the fridge door.

Any further attention on her is too much right now and her head is very full.

“I need to call Rosie,” she rushes out while he grunts, “I’m going to start dinner” at the same time.

They stop, looking at each other. Rey gives a short, tentative smile and he takes a step forward before she hurries back to her room.

* * *

Sunfruit juice swirls a bright pattern around the glass in Rey’s hand as she waits impatiently for Rose to answer her phone. It’s probably lodged under a sofa cushion again or in another room.

“No video, Reyrey?” Rose chirps after several rings. “You gone fully nude or something?”

“No—”

“Pity for Ben.”

“—but I am being driven mad and I need advice quickly,” Rey grumbles, giving as full an account of her most recent conversation as she can.

“That sounded jealous, right? I swear this intense wampa-man can be so frustrating. I felt a bit bad goading him but it’s hard _not_ to try to rile him up when he’s only been so nice and appropriate otherwise.”

Rose explodes with a more outraged version of the groan she’s given several times recently, being kept abreast of developing interests.

“You pretty little idiot! Of course he was jealous. Your sweet, loaded, knight in shining sportscar, who cooks you meals and worries you’ll get scurvy trying to live on trash, has _absolutely_ been riled up. I guarantee it. Every day he’s probably thinking about turning you over his knee with all the mess your half-dressed ass is no doubt making.”

Rey thinks of the smacking noise of his palm on granite and crosses her legs where she sits on her bed. That… sounds strangely good too, in a very new way.

“I— at this point I wouldn’t exactly complain,” she mumbles, gulping her juice and setting aside her glass.

“ _Called_ it!” yelps Rose, sounding as put upon as she is triumphant. “And I said he’s got that energy, I have spoken! Look, you’ve got to make a move on rudely large Manfridge before you break your Clit Sucker and can’t even replace it.”

“Oi!—”

“Oh switch off, don’t try to lie to me. I could see some _thing_ between you two on that video call—” she can picture Rose waving about a hand— “and if you won’t be direct you’ve got to be more obvious with a withdrawn type. Professional confidence doesn’t mean personal confidence sometimes. I know it’s hard for you, really I do, but try even a little bit, _please_ , you’re killing me here. Wear something of his, he’d probably love that. Use his cologne, claim you need assistance in the shower, flirt – _anything_.”

Remembering the coat of Ben’s she refused this morning, Rey bites back her response.

 _Ah_.

She could clearly use some coaching. And perhaps it is just that he’s really not good at making these kinds of connections, as Rose suggests. As hard as that is to believe on first glance at him.

She jumps in again just as Rose draws a breath to speak. “I talked to his mum earlier and she was interested in my degree and really nice. She didn’t seem snobby, which made me feel a bit better cos I was worried I was _beneath_ them you know, and—”

“Back up, you talked to Ben’s _mother?_ To Leia Organa?”

“Yeah, kind of… mostly accidentally. I was being nosy and I don’t think people often say no to her, I couldn’t. I’ll tell you about it after."

“Yeah you will! Look, _don’t_ sell yourself short, babe. You have a lot of appeal for the guy I met on video chat, trust me on that. And judging by his insistence on paying for everything I don’t think the financial element is any deterrent.”

Rey twists the hair-tie on her wrist. “But what if—”

“I know you haven’t done serious before, and it’s scary, but if that man’s not as far gone for you as I think he is by now, next time we see each other I’ll buy you two weeks’ worth of snacks. You _deserve_ to be happy.”

“Not just from the discount bins?” Rey gives a weak laugh.  
“Anything you want, the fancy chocolate. Benefits of no longer being on intern money,” Rose chortles back.

Really believing things will improve is still difficult in times of stress, after how Rey became accustomed to a lack of positive change in early childhood. But that brief moment over laundry when Ben seemed to look at her like he was seeing her for the first time, she wants that again.

“Alright. I’ll be more brave. I promise.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rose sings, placated finally. “No sister of mine is a coward!—” there’s a muffled voice in the background— “Pae-Pae agrees, death before dishonour! I want cans not cannots. We’re going to get you that Breadjamin Solo.”

“Oh R’iia, that reminds me, I learnt his middle names! Absolute rich people ridiculousness, poor guy. I can’t imagine a blimmin baby saddled with all that,” Rey cackles, unable to resist sharing.

“Put me on speaker, I want to talk to Pae and Kay too. I know they like Leia on Core Zone policy. I should’ve asked whether she and Chancellor Windu will be pushing to increase disability support. She probably couldn’t tell me; maybe ‘blink once for yes, twice for no’.”

* * *

After a long conversational volley between the four women, Rey follows her nose. Amusement bubbles at a sense of reversal when she pulls back into the delicious smelling kitchen and remembers her thought of a previous week about Ben and the tides.

Or perhaps they’re more like planets, orbiting each other.

He’s working over the stovetop, cardigan sleeves pushed back. His messy hair adds to the comforting domesticity.

She knows his house shoes are hidden by the counter island too, can picture how he may be tapping one toe against the mat covering the kitchen parquet, as he often does.

Perhaps in the future she’ll be able to come up behind him and throw her arms around as much of his waist as she can span.

“Tip-yip cacciatore tonight. Although with frozen vegetables, we’re out of fresh. It’ll make a lot of leftovers. How’s Rose doing?” he questions with a glance at her over his shoulder that is possibly nervous, even as a smile flickers at the corner of his mouth. Well she’s not going to make anything awkward.

“Sounds amazing Ben, thank you. She hasn’t been loving working from home, but otherwise she’s good.” Rey sits on a stool at the island, placing Porg on the countertop.

“She found some fish in the back of their freezer so they’re making their grandma’s cá kho tộ, can’t be picky about freezer burn at the moment. It’s really delicious— the recipe. Paige used to cook it when she was also placed with Maz for a few months, before she left for uni.”

“So you like seafood?”

“I like almost everything, apart from the look of your shakes—” his shoulders move like he’s smiling or amused— “cos there was no ability to pick and choose for a while when I was younger. I was just glad for whatever was available. Not that seafood is easy to get in Jakkers, mind you. It’s more of a shitty, processed sausage kind of place. But Maz cooked fish fairly often.”

She keeps her tone light, glossing over both early hungry memories and further realisation that it hasn’t been as difficult as she expects, disclosing parts of her history to him. He makes her want to.

But his stirring motion stills and he sends her another intense glance, one that feels a lot like he’d try to step between her and anything unpleasant if he could.

“Right. Takodana, you said? There seems to be a lot of water there, from pictures. I’ll try to get some colo claw fish when there’s another safe delivery window, if it’s available, and make my yiayia’s kakavia. It’s a Nabooian soup, I think you’ll like it. I even managed to get yiayia’s secret ingredient out of her last time we made it. Or so she let me believe.” He bobs his head from side to side like it might be true, or might not be. “Put music on if you want. The wind’s dropped but it may help with any noise.”

“Sounds great, both things. You’re… so good to me. Thank you. I’ll shuffle our playlist.” Rey extracts her phone from her pocket with a rushed fumble, filing away the details he’s given her.

“ _Our_ playlist… do that. Well, you deserve goodness,” Ben says slowly, his gaze soft as he turns to face her.

It does help, as ‘[Real](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUJxtWpfezo)’ starts to play, drowning out the lessening howl. And the lyrics of this favourite song feel appropriate, within reach as Ben's words settle into her.

> _Think of your ultimate fantasy_
> 
> _Think it and let it impossibly be_
> 
> _Hold it, allow yourself honestly_
> 
> _Know it and let it impossibly be_
> 
> _Real…_

Ben tilts his head for a moment and rocks slowly in time with the tune, before smiling and gesturing to her soft toy with the spatula.

“Porg’s helping out. My sous chef for the evening.”

She has a stab of guilt. “Oh do you want me to—”

“ _No_ , Rey. I’d just ask. If we ever want to cook something special together, that would be lovely. But I like doing this for you.” His voice is thick, too loud.

He turns back to the pan for a moment to rest the spatula before facing her again, like he can’t resist. “Just relax sweetheart,” he adds with a touch more bass.

The heavy, pooling warmth is back with this endearment.

Her friends call her many pet names, some cheeky and some sweet, but nothing has ever sounded like _this_ in a tone that makes her long for his arms around her, or friction between her legs. Both.

She can’t suppress a shudder that runs the length of her spine.

He gives her a lengthy, sharp look that’s decidedly not innocent. “I think you could be cold.”

Peeking at the raised hairs on her arms beneath her thin t-shirt sleeves, and down at her chest, she can see why that may appear to be the case.

“Yes, yes I’m cold!” she replies, voice too high for the demure she’s going for, sure her cheeks are pink.

Ben ambles with long steps around the island, stripping his cardigan and helping her arms into its sleeves. His torso shifting under the white cotton in her field of vision as he rolls the cuffs with deliberate hands and smooths the soft, thick knit over her shoulders with a hint of static.

Rather than asking if she wants the heat turned up, as he previously has. Rather than suggesting her own clothing from her room.

They’ve touched less than a handful of times and she can’t help but hold her breath.

It’s probably the fanciest thing she’s worn, knowing him, and it’s _his_.

“There you go, this will warm you up.”

How right he is. Voice husky, he ducks down more to her height on the stool. “ _Good_ — it looks good on you.” She bites back a whine, stomach giving a little wobble. “It’s a bit much for me standing over the burners.”

He seems reluctant to pull back his hands when the pan sauce makes more demanding pops, but Rey makes use of his attention being elsewhere.

Rose’s advice is still in the forefront of her mind and R’iia it’s _daunting_ , so she collects a stemmed glass from beside one of the counter island wine racks and pours herself generously from the stoppered Concordian pinot by the fruit bowl.

She takes several large gulps, downing half before allowing herself to appreciate the rich, floral red she’d tried several nights ago. Hardly the respect it deserves, but she could use some courage.

When Ben next looks at her a confusing, unsatisfied expression moves across his face. “You’re having wine with dinner tonight?”

“Will that not work with what you’re cooking?”

“Ah no, no it will go well. There’s some in the dish. That’s… fine.” His frown into the pan says anything but.

“Maybe it’ll help me remember it’s a Saturday night,” she tries to joke, tapping a blunt nail erratically against the glass. “You could… tell me about wine? Like previous times. What’s special about this one?” She’s happy to engage him on this topic now if his expression will clear.

By the time he serves a generous portion to her plate he’s lit up again, and the wine buzzes under her skin already as they sit to eat.

Perhaps he has a point about cereal for lunch she thinks, throwing her hair up into what is probably an ugly, lopsided, but food safe, bun.

As usual the meal is delicious and she says so – also that she’s never eaten so many vegetables as she has staying here, frozen or otherwise, which draws a gratified laugh.

He talks her through his next choice of bottle as they stay at the table and despite her hesitation with the subject when she’d arrived, she’s captivated – more so by him and his attention to her questions.

He always speaks to her like what she says _matters_ , Rey thinks, suddenly near to tearing up. Like she’s important.

So she tries to be an attentive student too with mixed success, confused by the regions she’s drinking from, the light and not too much water – or is it soil and cold? – that contributes to a ‘good year’. Regardless, vineyard pollutants prove interesting.

Eyes gleaming, he laughs with her through a diversion about his uncle and a doomed ice hiking trip that resulted in a _very_ strange and revolting way to survive the night. Ben says his father brings it up at every holiday meal, right when they’re about to eat.

It’s more wine than she’s seen him drink so far. Relaxed and dimpling wide, he leans back splayed in his dark jeans with feet either side of her adjacent chair where she sits with a knee pulled up, chin propped on top.

One of his arms is thrown over the back of his chair as he swirls another glass and she watches the muscles jump, no longer trying to be surreptitious.

She giggles to herself tipsily, breathing against the neck of his cardigan where it smells most like him. Warm and cocooned away, the gradually easing turmoil outside his home has started to feel pleasantly unreal.

_His t-shirt is working hard, that poor cotton…_

“I like that you’ve… decided to branch out… from dress shirts.” She snorts, almost inhaling her last mouthful of liquid.

“Ah, you do? I’m glad I did then. I’ve had… no complaints about your lockdown wardrobe.”

Looking down his patrician nose, his eyes travel the length of her slowly, lingering on her bare legs.

A smile plays at his lips and the skin folding beneath his tilted chin softens him, reminding her she’s flirting with just a man – or trying to – who has his own foibles, rather than the figure she built up in her head.

She registers in her muzzy state that his gaze is… hungry, now he’s less guarded.

She thinks he’s saying something. Probably. But she can’t concentrate on that.

_He_ wants _me. He absolutely does. I can see it. Rose was right. Isn’t she always? Does that mean I owe her snacks?_

There’s less internal fanfare than she expects, admitting this to herself so bluntly. Which yes, is perhaps the wine, but the realisation also slots so easily into a space that had been held open and waiting, already earmarked with his name.

She wets her lips and his eyes snap to them, not attempting to hide himself. He drains his glass and sets it aside, leaning into her space.

“Hold still,” he says with a small chuckle. “There’s a little something I’ve been wanting to get since dinner…”

Bringing up a big hand he wipes at the corner of her mouth with his thumb, forehead furrowed intently.

The touch sparks against her skin, her eyes grow half-lidded.

_He always gentles me in everything he does, in some way._

All the wine presses heavily on her, his cologne and the warm, human scent of him in her nose. Tingles radiating down her neck.

“Tomato sauce, all gone now sweetheart,” he says in his burnt caramel voice, with a hint of amusement.

He strokes his thumb back and forth on her jaw before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and the small noise that presses up from Rey’s chest is involuntary.

She hears his hitch of breath, widening her eyes to see his dilated and his Adam’s apple jump.

When she leans forward just a little too – focussed on his mouth, wanting _so much_ to kiss him – he stills his hand.

Fingers flexing where they rest large on the side of her face as if restraining himself, his own soft sound in the back of his throat.

Closing his eyes he takes a long, steadying breath.

Pulls back, drops his hand.

It’s reluctant and he looks stricken, but he still does it.

The moment hangs. There’s nothing companionable about this silence. If it had a colour it would be mottled purple like a bruise.

Ben moves to stand. “It’s getting late. Thank you for sharing the wine.”

Surely she should be thanking him? She searches for the right words to keep him seated but her head feels overlarge, too fuzzy.

“Wait, Ben…”

“Rey, sweetheart, no. We _can’t_ now. I’m heading to bed, you should too. Drink a lot of water. I— uh, you’ve had a lot of wine for someone your size. Don’t stay up late.” He speaks softly, pained but authoritative, with an appeal like she’s the one with the power here to hurt him.

Angry, bewildered tears threaten behind her eyes and tighten her throat as he corks the leftover wine and places it in what must be a high position in the pantry.

Moving quickly, he turns to the hallway like he needs to be gone from here, sucking some of the warmth out with him.

She’s not quite sure what’s happened and her inability to think it out with a mind like treacle only makes her more irritated.

This isn’t how previous dates with drinking have gone, if that’s even what this was. And she hadn’t just been reading into it.

Rey shivers into his cardigan, scrubbing the heels of her palms against her damp eyes. With low defences her mind wants to slip into an old, mocking loop. 

_Does he_ really _want you? Why would anyone?_

**************

Ben sits on the edge of his bed, elbow to knee and nursing a large glass of water. Sobering up while watching blustering storm shadows dance across his ceiling from the only light source: his window with curtains open to scant moonlight. Feeling similarly turbulent.

While he’s a big man and can handle his drink he got caught up in the evening and had more wine than he usually would. He served Rey too much as well but it’s hard to resist her engaged interest, and like the cheeky little thing she can be she also started without him.

One of them had to pull back tonight, especially when she’d discarded some hesitation under the influence.

However tempting this confirmation was that how he’s drawn to her is mutual, he wasn’t eager to prove true every self-belief he’s ever had about an underlying badness.

So despite his enjoyment of most of the evening there was also frustration at the direction it took, considering he’d spent his ingredients prep planning how to broach the topic of their attraction – wanting to create a comfortable moment for a clear-headed discussion on what he’ll require from her.

Jealousy (mercifully unfounded) had certainly evaporated any plans to move more slowly after it barrelled into him like a startled bull nerf.

The idea he’d been unaware of serious and established romantic competition had loomed just as cold-sweat inducing and unwelcome as any unexpected beast.

A miserable, possessive anger he plans to leave no opportunity now to experience in reality.

Seeing someone else wrapped around her while she looked fucking edible in that tiny blue dress, when _he'd_ like to be the one holding her – and buying her things, dressing her up so she doesn’t have to borrow…

Well, he’d been a complete, painfully obvious idiot over someone who sounds like a kind-hearted friend.

_His_ sweetheart looked like a dream tonight. So perfect, domestic, and appearing very much spoken for in his clothing as she snuggled into it – satisfying something primal inside him.

That little round ass making him itch to palm it while she leant over the bench. Her shoulders and jaw slender under his hands. The pert mouthfuls of her breasts and delicate, pebbled nipples under thin cotton that he’d really like to get his lips around. As soon as possible.

With a receptive mind and less self-deception he can concede he’s been thinking of her as his more often than he hasn’t, of late.

Ben might have struggled with opening up for many years but it’s been easier with Rey already, building the beginnings of a connection that feels unlike what he’s had before.

She needs to know she deserves to be treated like she’s precious, especially for what he wants to do with her.

And he’s sick of waiting.

So he downs a second glass of water and moves to his study next door, taking out his calligraphy pen and steadying his hand.

He rubs the line of scar tissue at his jaw as he decides what to write. What to spill of himself without it being too much.

> _Rey,_
> 
> _Please find me when you wake up so we can talk. I believe we both want the same thing. This connection between us, I think you feel it too sweetheart …_

When Ben has said enough and the script is to his liking, he encourages the ink to dry with shaky puffs of air before stepping quietly to Rey’s door.

It’s late now and there’s no crack of light from within as he draws himself up for a moment in the dark hallway, taking a solidifying breath before slipping the note underneath the wood.

In such a short amount of time her presence has whirled its way into his life like a diminutive tempest. An agent of most welcome chaos, he now finds.

This feels right. _She_ feels right – in this space, with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe plot happened when I started writing this whole fic as a pwp scene. I— Anyway *elmo fire gif* incoming.
> 
> ❤️ Thank you for kudos and comments, as always they're appreciated. I was v happy to get over the 100 kudos mark on this fic ❤️
> 
> As a note I have Rey say [caf](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Caf) (vs Ben saying coffee) solely because my nana of Northern English origin says that instead of café and I like that it’s a canon thing.
> 
> [The dress](https://pin.it/7sUERit) Rey borrowed from Paige in the photo. (I remember when Pinterest started and I avoided it until this point… it is as terrible/great for my magpie brain as I long suspected.)
> 
> Call-back to their first conversation featuring Finn and Poe, in Ben's car...
> 
> Yavin 4 was filmed in Guatemala, so that's what it's like here.
> 
> [Junari Point](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Junari_Point), a seaside location on Chandrila.
> 
> [Corulag](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Corulag/Legends) is between Chandrila and Coruscant on the Perlemian Trade Route.
> 
> [Sunfruit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sunfruit), a tropical Corellian fruit.
> 
> [Tip-yip](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Tip-yip) AKA Ewok chickens.
> 
> [Colo claw fish](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Colo_claw_fish) from Naboo. I like the idea that they eat enormous hell-beasts there.
> 
> [Inspiration](https://pin.it/5mzQ2lN) for Ben's cardigan, of course.
> 
> Why Condordian pinot? Because my headcanon is that [Concord Dawn](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Concord_Dawn/Legends) and Mandalore have an Aotearoa/New Zealand connection, for various reasons. I almost ascended hearing Boba's accented "Yep" in AOTC. Te mutunga kē mai nei o te pai.


	6. Landfall with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You need a teacher, sweetheart. You’re allowed to want things, Rey, such as being taken care of. Let me show you how precious you are."_   
>  _A sense of safety settles over her like her blanket, the realisation of the power in what she chooses to give to him. He's right, it is a precious thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us now earn the rating. Plot as well as smut for this, so it’s longer. And these two deserve it by this point tbh.  
> It’s POV Rey because that worked best for me being that it’s an entirely new experience for her. The next chapter will be very heavy on (or exclusively) POV Ben.
> 
> Tags are updated. I don't think there are any additional CW.
> 
> What did I write between chapters of this? Some [filthy Breylo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172758/chapters/61003312), if that's your thing.

_Water_ is the first thought Rey can muster. What little morning daylight there is to be had, cutting through the storm, peeks in from behind the curtains.

She rubs her face, brushing away sharp crusts from the corners of her eyes before fumbling for her phone. 11:06am.

Not atypical for a Sunday before lockdown if she wasn’t working, and at least the quietened wind allowed her longer rest.

Water was what she sculled back a lot of last night before bed, as per Ben’s advice. It’s probably the reason the world may be bleary and her tongue thick and sour, but there’s no painful throbbing inside her head.

And she _really_ needs to take a leak. As of about half an hour ago according to her bladder.

Stumbling to the bathroom, she slumps heavily on the toilet for relief, resting her jaw in her hands.

Mercifully the wine pulled her under to sleep quickly last night, cutting short her wine-addled neuroses and a few frustrated, confused tears shed while turning Ben’s words over and over in her mind.

What did the 'now' of _we can't now_ mean? Was he speaking generally, or sticking to the present? The former is the distressing option; with a clearer head she concedes she’d rather wake up remembering everything if they slept together, all things considered.

While gulping water her rumbling stomach makes its complaints known. She kicks at yesterday’s discarded clothing and other floor-dwelling items to clear a pathway to her bedroom door, but her attention is on listening for noise beyond it.

The hallway is silent and she has only her own company in the kitchen while stealthily rummaging for food.

She selects the remainder of her Solo-censured cereal, dry from the box. A glass of sunfruit juice, some moof milk swigged from the bottle with no large man present to say otherwise (and not for the first time. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him… hopefully). A muesli bar from his pantry stores.

A mug with a teabag; the microwave is noisy and she can’t decide if using it is more or less offensive than hot water straight from the tap.

All are secreted back to her room – she’d rather not run into him after last night like this, in a t-shirt and underwear, shoving food in her mouth.

It’s upon catching her foot on his cardigan while elbowing open her door, cereal box stowed under her arm, that she steps on something that feels and rustles like paper.

A note, which is odd.

Setting her breakfast beside her bed, she retrieves the thick ivory paper, and her first scan of the words causes a lump to lodge in her throat that isn’t from milkless, mini breakfast cookies.

Rey traces the delicate, looping ink with a shaking finger, in a flood of relief so intense after her turmoil last night that she finds herself sitting on the floor with a thump, legs curled under at odd angles.

_Ben’s_ calligraphy. He’s shown her his work and written her this. He wants what she wants, he feels their connection.

> _… only if you want this. It is entirely your decision. If not, you have my word I won’t make things difficult for you during the rest of your stay._
> 
> _Yours, Ben._

Her heart beats a riotous song beneath her breastbone and she presses a hand to her chest as if to keep it in place.

Rey has always been better at waiting and settling for a plan B or C than she’d like.

Yet now she’s getting what she wants. Maybe she'll know what it's like to be really desired back, for more than an evening or two.

Pinching her nose and finding it oily, she tries to steady her breathing and not cry in shock.

Ben had to have written this last night, so he’ll need to wait a little longer now. She’s not going show up for a discussion this important while greasy and hungry.

After food and juice, with tea sipped looking out at the Hothstorm and occasional bursts of silent lightning, she brushes her teeth. She showers too, avoiding her hair but shaving carefully. Moisturises using the amber and sandalwood toiletries.

Her actions are deliberate, a kind of ritualised distraction to avoid fixating on the conversation ahead.

Dressing is done in the same manner; a white cotton camisole, her favourite heart-print sleep shorts and fluffy lilac bed socks; both are comfort items, she needs them.

Her concession to bravery is considering underwear… then forgoing it. She has a clear idea at least of where she _wants_ this discussion to lead. 

There’s one final nervous pee that’s barely a trickle and a resulting re-wash with the bidet. Distrustfully done, after how it had sprayed her the first time she tried it.

She can’t decide if it’s useful or an unnecessarily fancy edition. If she were to ask Ben he’d no doubt extol the virtues of how it’s just more _clean_.

Rey retrieves his cardigan, shaking it off and looking at the label before slipping it up her arms. _Eugroothwa Zegna 100% Fantabu Cashmere Made in Kiros_.

Probably not suitable for the floor then… and that explains why it certainly is soft.

She goes to find him clutching it around herself with butterflies in her stomach and a dry mouth.

* * *

Rey pauses, one hand on the door handle to Ben’s study. He has to be in here, it’s the only place she hasn’t looked (or yet been at all).

Of course, he’s the first thing she notices upon opening the door. His hair is immaculate again and he’s focussed on a book in his hands, wearing his almost certainly tailored jeans and a soft looking, black jumper, fine enough that it conforms faithfully to his broad torso. Probably some kind of cashmere again.

Her fingers twitch to involve themselves in this tableau.

As she steps into the room and closes the door her eyes fall on his tobacco leather desk chair built to his scale with another beside it, on his large desk of dark wood upon which is a closed, sleek looking laptop and an illuminated red banker’s lamp.

There’s a framed photograph of Leia with a greying gentleman who must be Han – that half smile is familiar. And the weighty looking, silver fountain pen is something she feels a sense of connection to now.

The study is a precise and elegant space, unmarred by her mess. It looks a little colder and less lived in as a result – just her personal opinion – although the full, tall bookshelves are a welcome, and expected, sight.

Diplomas and awards hang in frames above filing cabinets, and… is that a _sword_ mounted on the far wall? It has an appearance of heirloom about it, a hint of tarnish beneath its jewelled scabbard.

Rey has always been a forager so she drinks this in; these details of Ben.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't come," he mumbles in a clipped way as she pads over the parquet and curls herself into the free chair to a creak of leather.

There's a leading note to his voice – a vulnerability. His brow tenses before he looks toward the window, working his jaw and rubbing a finger over a corner of his book to butterfly the pages.

He's been hiding himself away too.

"No I—" she swallows, steeling herself. "I just got your note, and I really needed to shower. I didn't see it and then I stood on it. The note. It was beautiful, your handwriting. But it didn't rip, the note's still fine. I’m going to keep it. I definitely wanted to come. Here."

_Stop rambling for the love of R'iia. However true the unintended innuendo is._

She pushes the heels of her hands against her eyelids for a moment and reopens them on hearing his chair squeak. Ben has set his book aside and turned to finally look at her above his reading glasses perched on his prominent nose.

There's happiness behind his eyes, their corners crinkling in a way she loves the few times she's seen it happen. His lopsided smile transforms his face in a manner she doubts she could tire of, and _she_ put it there.

If that isn't exactly what she wants to _keep_ doing...

His gaze flashes with the heat she saw last night as he takes in what she's wearing.

"My cardigan."

"I like it. Smells good." She pulls it closer around her shoulders. Not cold but very aware of his scrutiny.

"I like it on you too. Very much. _And_ those shorts," he says pointedly, lifting an eyebrow and rubbing his thumb along his full bottom lip.

There’s a shift in his bearing, a tension melting. Magisterial, appropriate for the barrister he is, yet also relaxed.

He sprawls his legs out in front of himself, the picture of comfort, and she can see now that she really had been mistaken in her assumptions about the intensity with which he sometimes looks at her.

His eyes on her in the snow by her car, over dinner or while she eats, on her body in pyjamas and comfortable t-shirts; now, she’s able to recognise that look for what it is.

It's not anger or even disapproval, it's more like he wants to drown in her and take her down with him. A sharpened focus.

With a thumping heart she lets his cardigan slip down over the lace straps on her bare shoulders and hears his little hiss of air, feels her nipples stiffen beneath the thin, white cotton.

He clears his throat. "The first thing I need to make very clear is that I did want to kiss you last night. I want you, Rey. A great deal."

He takes off his reading glasses, setting them neatly aside without a break in how his eyes hold her.

"Then why—"

"Because if you're ever not in control with me it will be because you're choosing to give me that gift and it's something you're _fully_ aware of."

_Oh… he's always looking after me, isn't he? Big, lovely wampa of a man._

Rey’s prior ruminations melt away like snowflakes on heated skin and she blinks rapidly. "I was nervous last night… sorry."

"You don't need to be nervous around me little one," he tells her, smooth and low.

The endearment slides up her spine like a caress, spreading warmth and softness everywhere it touches. She can’t bite back an involuntary little noise as she fists his cardigan, and something dark and enticing grows in his eyes at her reaction.

"I had a good time too,” he softens his voice. “However, when I’m taking _care_ of you the very least of my responsibilities is to not be under the influence either."

Her fantasies are all the more compelling wrapped in these layers of safety and assurance; responsibility, it turns out, can be very arousing.

"Right. That— that makes sense. I think I'd like it, you... um, being in control. And doing that."

Ben curves the corner of his mouth into a private, victorious kind of smile.

"Yes from what I've observed I think so too. And that's good, because my preference is usually for me being in charge. I’d like it very much if you were submitting, and I was dominant. It's just how I am, more of a lifestyle interest than dabbling."

He makes a small noise of self-conscious amusement with a tilt of his head.

“For instance, I may still want to hold you down and listen to you ask me very, _very_ nicely for what you need even if we had only twenty minutes to have some fun together. Does this sound like something you’d enjoy?"

Rey gives a jittery gasp of pure desire alongside her nod, unconsciously pressing her thighs together at how brazen he’s being after so much prior reticence.

Ben just roams his eyes over her in a self-satisfied way that would be insufferable if it wasn't so enticing.

Like he's willing to unfurl so much more of himself now she sees and accepts him.

_Bloody hell, he's definitely not so guarded now. There was a lot pent up beneath all that formal clothing._

The air in his study at this cooler end of the apartment does little for her overheated skin – finally understanding what this is, and how serious he is about it.

She wants it all. She _wants_ to submit to him.

Although honestly, she's not sure if she's also annoyed he hasn't kissed her yet, hasn't even _touched_ her, and already he has her awaiting his instructions with steadily pooling warmth below her belly.

And there's something in Ben’s gaze she can't put her finger on—

"Am I right in assuming you're not experienced with this?" The rough voiced question cuts through her thoughts.

"Yes." She winces, picking at the hem of his cardigan. "I'm not… in general. I mean I haven't done it many times at all. Sex. It’s often kind of… sucked, and I’ve had to give basic directions which I don't really like, it's— ugh _R'iia_..."

In terms of being upfront she’s now in for a cent, in for a credit, but her neck still prickles, embarrassed at apparently being unable to speak about this topic without falling over her tongue.

But she also doesn't miss the way Ben’s pupils expand further. He wets his lips, closing his eyes for a moment and huffing in a breath through flaring nostrils.

It was only honesty, but from his demeanour now it was also clearly the right thing to say.

_Ah_ , she realises as he pins her with a combustive look, _that's what it is about his gaze – it’s predatory. The look of a large, hunting animal in the most welcome kind of way._

"You need a teacher, sweetheart. You’re allowed to want things, Rey, such as being taken care of. Let me show you how precious you are."

A sense of safety settles over her like her blanket, the realisation of the power in what she chooses to give to him. He's right, it is a precious thing, and she could just as easily take it away.

This knowledge is far more grounding and comforting than any casual, far more simplistic hook-up where she's been very much in the lead.

"It's been hard for both of us, this storm. Especially for you, adjusting to a stranger and a new space. You've done _so_ well. So we're going to talk a little longer and then I promise I’ll do a much better job to relax you than any wine."

She nods, curling her toes in her socks.

" _Good girl_."

His voice is a confident caress she feels between her legs while a fuzzy calm weighs down her limbs.

"You like me calling you that." He doesn't phrase this as a question.

"You need someone else to take the lead, someone who assumes responsibility for your pleasure and your comfort. Who allows you to be a small and treasuredthing so you can let yourself go in the moment. You need a firm hand don’t you, baby girl?"

He waits a beat while she goes completely still, her pulse racing, senses muffled as if underwater. Why is this somehow the most thrilling thing she’s ever been called?

“I asked you a question Rey, use your words,” he demands more roughly.

“I— I think so… Sir.” She shifts against the slickness in her sleep shorts, and the recently discovered title doesn’t feel risky at all once it’s out of her mouth.

“Sweet little thing, you really are perfect aren’t you?” Ben croons softly, leaning forward with dilated eyes.

With his big hand he strokes the backs of his fingers along her jaw as she shivers, fluttering her lids closed.

"Now sweetheart, I do not share, so—"

"I don't want anything casual! I like you a lot." Rey blinks wide and barrels over his note of caution, pressing her need forward.

She'd be tempted to go stand out in the snow in misery if this turned into a once-off fling.

"Good. _Good_. Kriff, _Rey_ , I couldn't do that with you. You are magnificent, captivating."

An almost painful bubble of euphoria bubbles up into her chest, that he won't treat her as disposable.

Ben leans away, opening a desk drawer for a printed sheet of paper.

“Regarding safety, I have my test results, which I get done regularly.”

“Do you file them under S for sexual health or P for penis?” It’s impossible to remain solemn at this not unexpected _B. Solo, C.Moff_ level of preparedness as she looks the information over, and he does give a head-shaking, wry grin.

“M for medical. Do you…?”

“Oh, I have an IUD. I’ve had a check-up at the uni health clinic since the last time I had sex, which… was a while ago. All clear!” she chirps awkwardly, even as his foresight impresses her. “I have the student health app on my phone, I could go get it?”

For a moment he seems to debate himself. “I can view it later. I trust you. Now, condoms?”

It means a lot, hearing this from this disciplined man.

“We don’t _need_ to, if you want as well…” Rey offers. Usually she would insist, without exception, but she thinks she’d like… feeling him fill her.

From his rumble, it’s mutual. “I can think of few more tempting things right now than coming inside you, sweet thing.”

Ben is no fumbling student, he’s all adult – he’s really _thought_ about this and what’s best for them. It’s intoxicating and boldness comes easier, without shame or anxiety.

“Will you kiss me now, please, Sir?” She twists the cardigan sleeve.

At her ready adoption of this game he beams wide, with dimples, and it really is ruinous when he lets it out.

“In just a moment sweetheart, be patient. I’m going to do so much more than kiss you if you’re good for me.”

She is, she’s going to be _so_ good.

_This is what I’ve been needing and I didn’t know. To go into the parts of myself that are both softer and darker._

Shifting his laptop aside, he pats the wide leather blotter with a large palm.

“Hop up little one. Here, take my hand, sit yourself up on my desk.”

She rises wobbly, on coltish legs, allowing his cardigan to slip off onto the floor before taking her place on the cool wood.

Her shallow breaths are loud as he rolls his chair back in, his big body caging her shins between his knees. So close to where his jeans have tented substantially.

Although her feet are far from the floor she is only at the level of his nose.

He shushes her, low as if to a frightened animal, running calming hands up her arms and trailing goosebumps, toying with her lace straps. She grips the lip of the wood.

“Shhh, don’t be afraid. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to do what I say, but if either of us wants to stop, no matter what we’re doing, we’ll say red.”

His voice is like molasses trickling down her belly and he brings his large hands down to ghost the pads of his fingers slowly up her legs, hips, waist.

She hums agreement, stripped of her words.

“Yellow means stop what we’re doing in that moment but don’t stop completely—” his big thumbs knead under her camisole, sliding it up— “and if I check in with you and you’re fine, you’ll tell me green. Just like a traffic light.”

Her nod is near frantic from this small amount of contact and he makes a hungry noise, about to pounce.

“Look at you, so needy and I’ve only been talking to you. Are you so worked up?” He clicks his tongue. “That’s alright, now _Daddy_ can give his little girl what she needs for being so good.”

A frisson of pleasure shoots down her thighs at _that_ word, a piece falling into place and bringing a sudden pulse of wetness to her cunt.

Ben seems entirely unsurprised.

_Oh Maker, Rose deserves a lot more credit…_

She gasps, fingernails pressing against hardwood, and he brings his lips, that soft mouth, to hers.

Firm yet gentle, with a hand lacing through her hair to tilt her head and his other holding her in place around her rib-cage.

He smooths the so sensitive area under the softs of her breasts, back and forth, while his plush lips part and he licks at the seam and then into her mouth, grunting into her.

His kiss is a little like those bursts of silent lightning exploding outside. It’s a lot like a whole new state of being.

Pulling back for a moment with a heaving chest, he puffs warm breaths of air against her mouth and runs his tongue along her bottom lip before pulling at it with his teeth.

Rey whimpers at the twists of pleasure between her lips and cunt, before remembering she has hands of her own and gripping his thick biceps covered in soft knit – trying to pull his solid body and its radiating heat closer as his mouth meets hers again. 

She feels him smile against her lips at her small noises, at her matching eagerness, to taste him.

He kisses her then like a devouring, all hunger and skill.

When he pulls away she sways toward him, leading with her mouth and blinking open her eyes.

"Since being here you smell like my toiletries brand and you, delicious. Just like you should. I love it," he murmurs happily, leaning his forehead against hers.

"You always smell good too, 's fancy," she manages to respond before he pushes up from his chair with a chuff of amusement, rolling his neck.

Ben is formidably large, she's reminded.

Looming over her, he could swallow her whole. It might take… a bit of work to swallow one part of him, by the look of things.

"You are so _beautiful_. I've never met anyone like you."

It's snow melt inside her chest, his words the sun. Rivulets of his affection run inside her, watering arid corners.

"Show me… please."

Inclining his head in accord, he plucks at her camisole. “Arms up now. Let’s get you out of this, I’ve waited long enough.”

Practised hands strip the cotton over her head before gripping the hem of her sleep shorts. For a concerning moment she worries he’ll rip her favourite pair, with how he narrows his eyes.

“This _kriffing_ heart-print little scrap of fabric, around _my_ house,” he hisses menacingly before tugging them off too and bringing the wet patch to his face for a deep inhale, to her surprise.

Stepping back with a groan he just… _looks_ at her, drinking her in.

She’s more exposed, more naked somehow, for still being in her fuzzy lilac socks.

There’s something about being bared to him while he’s unrumpled and fully clothed that heightens her sense of their mutual scale. It’s the first time in her life that the smaller she feels, the more safe.

Her clit throbs, the fine hairs of her body standing on end. Her skin, her nipples, are all too tight and hot. She’s probably making a mess of his desk.

_There’s no way he’s not going to make a mess of me._

“ _Fuck_ , I’ve dreamt of these perky little tits and your cute little pussy, Rey, how you _taste_. I’ve wanted my mouth on them since you took off your sweater by my car in the snow, and the whole time you’ve been such a _messy_ , tempting, _braless_ little brat in my home.

“I convinced myself you wouldn’t want _this_ , that you were too young and small and I’d ruin you, but all you needed was for me to take you in hand.”

She doesn’t mask her small, impish smile. Her joy at affecting him this much too.

Ben’s nostrils flare and he crowds her in on the desk, drawing the pads of his fingers over her nipples. The lightest, cruellest strokes.

Her small moan brings a short, smoky chuckle from his chest.

" _There_ it is, the same noise you made on your first night here sucking butter off your little fingers."

"I— I do not sound like that eating!" Rey huffs breathlessly, able to summon some indignance even as he begins to knead and roll the taut buds.

"Oh you do baby,” he croons. “I thought that was torturous until I tried to bring you towels a couple of nights later and heard you enjoying yourself in the shower."

Her mouth pops open. " _Ben_ , oh R'iia, really?"

He flashes her a very heated half smile but his breaths are harsh. "Do you know how many times I've fucked my fist thinking about it? How wild you’ve driven me?"

Rey shakes he head, wide eyed, a further gush of arousal between her legs.

"The last time I thought about it was this morning,” he murmurs against her ear, “right… when I… woke up."

A whine bubbles up in her throat, picturing him touching himself while thinking about her, and she clutches at his jumper.

“Please, Sir— Daddy, _please_.”

“So well mannered for me now,” he hums, curling an arm behind her to fist her hair and arch her neck, a satisfying sting.

“You just need a little encouragement to behave. From now on you’ll _only_ call me Sir or Daddy—” he pinches her nipple for emphasis and she jumps— “and you’ll tell me right now, using your words, what you want. Even if it’s dirty, baby, Daddy wants to hear you say it.”

Rey doesn’t hesitate, desire can’t stick in her throat when she’s this perfectly mindless, this helpless.

“Please, Daddy I need you to touch me, I want your mouth on my breasts too, _I do_ , and touch my pussy, _please_ let me come.”

“ _Good girl_ , well done,” he grins, utterly triumphant.

Then all in his lower register, “Open your legs. Lean back against my arm. You _will_ come for me, sweetheart. As many times as I like.”

Her mention of prior disappointment appears to be a challenge.

Ben mouths at her body with a hunger that can only come from much denial. When he nips at her throat and sucks marks on her clavicle and chest she understands why, and welcomes the proof as well.

He laves at her nipples, sucking as she whimpers and leaving wet trails between them until they’re red and swollen and her clit is pulsing, before taking an entire breast into his mouth with a growl.

She wails.

“Please Sir, please _please_ I’m so— oh _Maker_ , I’ve been so— I need—“ 

A single, thick finger traces down her mons over the little patch of hair there, dipping between her slick, bare folds.

“I know exactly what my girl needs,” he mumbles against her breast while pressing her clit – it’s like an electric shock.

“What have we here? You’re _soaked_ for me, kriff I can _smell_ you—” his fingers slide lower— “dripping all over my desk, so messy.”

She’s near tears with need, wriggling in the hope he’ll move his hand, but Ben just tightens his grip in her hair

“My poor little girl,” he tuts. “Keep still now.”

What he asks is almost impossible, but Rey tries anyway, winding her fingers in the fine, black knit of his jumper over his abdomen to anchor herself.

Ben begins to rub at her clit so softly, the sparks he kindles are almost painful.

She’s so on edge it doesn’t take much.

A little more speed from two thick fingers to roll her clit under its hood. His teeth grazing over her nipple before giving a hard suck, and she’s coming already – jerking her head back against his hand and feeling a pop as her fingers break through fabric.

She can’t care, as he curls his body over her protectively.

“That’s it, let go.”

It’s a firework of pleasure, shocking her. Her moan is as surprised at it is delighted, cunt clenching around nothing, thighs shaking.

She’s never needed so little direct pressure or come so quickly.

Ben rumbles his satisfaction into the sensitive place beneath her ear, licking up her lobe before pulling back just enough to watch her face from beneath his sooty lashes.

He stops his fingers when she tries to shift away only to slide one inside her.

She’s so wet there’s barely any resistance, but it’s just as thick and long as she imagined filling her – two of hers – and she clenches around him.

He moves his lips lazily against her jaw.

“Well done, that’s one sweet girl. You’re so responsive, let’s see what else we can do. Tight though—” he pumps his finger through her trembles as she preens at his praise— “I’m going to need to open you up a little more for me, get you nice and soft.”

He raises his slick digits to her mouth and she mourns the loss but sucks her own musky tang without thinking, any hesitation left somewhere on the floor with her clothing.

“ _Fuck_ , Rey.” Ben groans and screws up his face as her tongue works around his fingers and he presses down, sliding them further into her throat until just the point before gagging.

Half-lidded and pliant, with drool running down her chin, she gazes up at this big, passionate man like he’s the centre of her world.

Right now he is.

“Freckles… still there… I need to taste you myself,” he grits out.

To her surprise he stoops to place his shoulder against her belly before hefting her over the soft knit like a sack of root vegetables, clasping her tight with a strong, warm arm.

“Are you green, baby girl?”

“Yes Daddy,” she hums.

This isn’t what she was expecting and she jostles with trailing hair for the short distance to his room, but it’s so easy to let him lead in any direction.

So right in this safe, fuzzy headspace when he’s this tender and his touch this sure.

Ben tosses her on his huge, plush bed and she lands with a soft bounce on the grey waffled duvet. She’s bathed in his attention and the golden light of the bedside lamp he switches on to cut the dim, Hothstorm daylight.

She can’t focus on her surroundings, just him.

“Here we go, much more comfy. You’re… radiant, sweetheart,” he tells her thickly.

_So this is what it feels like to be this wanted, and to want so much._

Pulling her body forward by her ankles he kneels beside the mattress, hooking her thighs up over his shoulders.

The position and his mumbled praise for how pretty and pink and _wet_ for him she is there, feels like a reversal of power of sorts, despite her obedience.

No one has ever spoken like this about her body before and her name has never sounded so important.

There’s small needy noise from the back of his throat—

His tongue meets her vulva in a long, satisfied lick. Her moan is mixed with his; her fantasies hadn’t accurately captured this.

“ _Fuck_ , Rey, better than I imagined. And I imagined this a lot.”

He mouths at her soaked cunt, turning his head to smear liquid heat against her thighs.

Licking, bunting her clit with his long nose, probing his tongue into her as she squirms and whimpers. She’s sensitised from her orgasm and torn between wanting to push away or cant her body toward him.

Eventually he sates himself and settles into a pattern more exclusively for her benefit. Firm swirls with the flat of his tongue as her moans fill his bedroom.

He grips her hip and she feels a finger rub lightly around her wet entrance.

Rey whines incoherent encouragement as he slides inside and begins to move it in harmony with his tongue. Tentative at first, when she relaxes fully he slowly adds another.

It’s an intrusion, stretching her despite her slickness. He scissors them before crooking up and deep, rubbing at a patch inside that starts to feel really, _really_ good in a way penetration usually doesn’t.

She tries to buck her hips against him, chasing another high. Seeking more of his talented hands, calligrapher's hands; perhaps that’s why they are.

But he holds her down with a wide palm.

Each glide is a fracture of pleasure as her sounds become more desperate, garbled. Her walls fluttering more demandingly around him.

Ben sucks on her then, sealing his plush lips around her clit, nosing at her curls.

She has the hazy thought that here is the human version of her toy, as she looks down at his dark, lust-filled eyes watching her and his inky head of hair so intent between her thighs…

Before her back is bowing, her mouth opening, and she is coming _again_ – splintering with a deep clenching, a wetness and a raw shout.

Her thighs are a vice around his ears, her muscles jumping, her walls gripping his fingers as he moves her through it, drawing out her pleasure until she sobs and he withdraws.

A touch reluctant to stop his appreciation of her drenched and swollen vulva.

Rey collapses completely, blinking up at him in a stupor as he sits back animalistic with even his nose shiny, wiping his mouth on his ruined jumper. Gone is his concern for his expensive sartorial aesthetic.

(She notes the fist-sized hole with some measure of pride.)

She’s wondered at how he’s maintaining his control, but like this she can tell how much it’s costing him. He looks wild as he stands, the denim at his pockets pulling with how hard he is.

“I need to be inside you now.” His voice is gravel.

He undresses methodically at first, a show of authority.

Until she shifts further up the bed and slowly spreads her thighs again. He curses to himself and his mouth slackens as he begins to move with more eagerness than grace, catching his black t-shirt on his wristwatch.

"Hush brat," he grumbles affectionately at her smirk.

But she’s distracted from her amusement anyway, captivated by his vast, solid chest of taut muscle. His wide shoulders, more moles. That trail of hair above where his hands are shakily unzipping.

When he begins to peel down his fitted, black boxers it steals her breath.

She gawks, an intimidated blush colouring her cheeks despite herself.

A neat, sable thicket frames his cock, long and very hard.

Heavy, hanging above his corded thighs smattered with dark hair. His foreskin slipped back just slightly from his glans and shiny at the tip already.

Ben notes her reaction and his stare is wolfish as he advances. He kneels onto the bed and moves to cage her safely between his arms, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest and pushing her hair back from her face.

She brings a hand from where she’s white knuckling them together to first stroke her fingers up the velvet hardness of his cock – wanting just to touch it, making him jolt – before tracing the length of his scar.

More visible in the lamplight as running lower than she’d thought, thickening on his chest and ending above his pectoral.

Something really hurt him in the past, she thinks with anger, and when Ben jerks as if to pull away _she’s_ the one holding him down to her and not letting him go.

He shudders, as if he isn't used to being touched like this and doesn't know what to do with the sensation, before surrendering his body into her hands.

“You’re so handsome Daddy. _Ben_. And you can’t ruin me, you're so good just as you are.”

Disbelief passes over his face. It’s a heavy moment but her heart is light and his eyes grow gentle and damp.

Rey runs her palms over his shoulders, pushes her fingers into his biceps and through his tousled waves, scratching her nails at his pectorals.

Anything for more sensation, to touch his big body and let him know what he does to her; that she wants _all_ of it.

He likes this, rumbling into her neck, and stays a while just playing with her breasts, moving her arms this way and that as pleases him, pinning a leg, fisting her hair to expose more of her neck.

Like Rey is a precious thing beneath this hands, to be posed and admired.

When satisfied he splays her thighs even wider and guides the head of his cock to her entrance, just teasing.

Rubbing their arousal together, notching himself inside to stretch her and then withdrawing to stroke himself against her clit with broken grunts.

Until she’s a mess of little moans and need with shaking hands reaching futilely for his chest, for his arms, for anything as he holds himself back from her.

“You’re exquisite, Rey. Always, but _especially_ like this. Laid out for me, so compliant, so wet. Tell me what colour you are.”

He sounds as ruined as she already feels.

The words have barely left his mouth before she’s whining, “I’m green, please Daddy _please_ —“

It turns into a deep moan, hers or Ben’s she’s not sure, as he grips her thigh and the base of his cock and finally begins to push inside.

Rey is all fullness now, a live wire, all nerve and noise.

All stretch as he slowly pushes into her – it’s been a while and he’s bigger than her past experiences.

Even with how wet she is, how _messy_ , her breath catches and her walls tense. He’s primed her well but there is a tendril of fear in her gut at just how _much_ he feels.

Ben pauses, dark gaze solid. He leans down, twitching just inside her, his wide frame a shielding canopy.

Holding himself on one forearm he firmly cups the back of her neck while his other hand rubs her belly, soothing and relaxing her again.

It’s almost as if… he’s scruffing her, both harsh and gentle, and this shouldn’t be as arousing as it is as she feels herself go slack.

“Shhh, I’ve got you sweetheart. That’s it, I’ll look after you,” he whispers raggedly against her ear, resuming his slow slide and nuzzling her temple.

“Being _such_ a good girl for me, taking me so well, does it feel like a lot?” His voice is pleased and thick.

She nods, eyes screwed closed. "Thank you," she thinks she says. Thanking him for everything she’s taking, in general at this point, probably.

It's almost too much, she’s just this side of over-stretched.

Her vision spots at the edges and her whine edges into desperate; very aware of how new her body is to being this full.

“You’re so _small_ , little one. Almost all inside, I’m so proud of you— feel so fucking good Rey, so _tight_.”

She flutters around him at the crack in his voice and those _words_ that lick up her stomach and settle into her chest.

He grits his teeth.

There’s a final slide against her walls and her surprised, choked huff. His broken, shuddering groan rumbling into her through his chest as he comes to a seat inside her cunt.

Cock twitching, Ben’s eyes are wide and awed as he shakily licks his lips.

He pushes up just enough to look down at where they are joined.

“Nothing _ever_ — so tight and soft, _fuck_ , it looks like I’m splitting you apart. Tell me this pussy is mine, Rey.”

She quivers, almost violently. “ _Yes_ , yes Sir, just yours!”

But part of her is glad she can’t see what he does; she suspects that may be overwhelming, she’s surprised he even fit.

He tightens his grip of her nape and strokes her hair with his other hand, waiting with the same attentive patience he shows so many things as he lets her settle and adjust.

She’s floating, surrounded. Heavy and light.

Ben plants a hand to the bed and raises her feet together carefully to one broad shoulder, splaying a palm across her abdomen to grip her hip. Pushing his weight down to double her over. Kissing and licking at her ankles just under the tops of her fuzzy socks, eyes glinting and blown to near black.

His breath comes in tickling puffs until she’s folded nearly in half. 

_I’m a sex pretzel_. _I’m still wearing my bloody socks… which I think he likes_.

She’s loopy on the sensation and the sight of it, giggling softly to herself.

Ben smiles indulgently, and with more bass in his voice, “You’re so sweet. I’m going to move now.”

His first thrusts are measured, controlled, but she still jolts with each and he hisses between his teeth, withdrawing slowly and only a little, to sink back deeply.

Grinding his pubic bone against hers brings pulses of pleasure, and he rides her like this until her pussy softens and her moans increase.

“So good, Daddy, _feels good_ ,” she whines, intoxicated with him.

“Then you can take more, baby girl. I’m done holding back,” Ben grunts.

His grasp turns bruising over her waist and she squeals as he rolls his hips forcefully for the first time, a noise she's sure is completely new to her and one he evidently appreciates – he seeks it again and again.

Quaking hiccups overtake her vocalisations as she tries to adjust to his new pace, to how impossibly huge he feels driving into her. To how she can barely even clench.

Ben has just... let himself go. She _loves_ it.

Wet slaps of skin on skin and his harsh noises fill the room, his solid form with a sheen of sweat.

His cock drags against her walls, pushing with each return on that newly discovered bundle of nerves deeper inside.

“You feel… like a… fucking _dream_.”

Rey loses herself in being so perfectly brought to a pinpoint of pleasure that her body can only accept him and every nerve ending is alight.

Fisting the sheets as her breasts bounce, she claws at whatever of his soft skin she can reach. Marvelling at this big, guarded man _so undone_ above her.

This side of him is ferocious, so intense and vocal without his usual composure.

He fucks into her with his whole body— but it feels more significant, with the way he looks at her so reverently— drawn out and focussed rather than the two short races she's had before.

There’s a building with every slick press of his cock inside her, every delicious impact on that spot within.

A sensation – _again, R’iia how can it be again?_ – she needs more of, especially when she’s never actually come _at all_ around a dick before.

“I want, I want to— please Daddy, _I need_ ," she gurgles brokenly.

Ben’s wild attention is on her; lips parted showing teeth, dishevelled, dark hair shadowing his face as he thrusts.

“I’ll touch your clit… sweetness… that’s what you need, _I know_ ,” he rasps.

His wide hand slides nearer to her mons, thumb forcing between her slick, tightly pressed thighs to rub intently right where she needs it.

Bursts of pleasure shoot up her spine and into her limbs, from his fingers and where she’s most stretched.

“You’re gonna give me a third… _fuck_ … gonna let me feel it all around my cock… come only when I tell you, just like…a _good little girl_.”

Rey’s back arches as Ben continues his movements in tandem.

Huffing, relentlessly driving into her. His abdomen a flexing wall of muscle slapping noisily against the backs of her legs as she begins to pant, walls gripping around him.

Babbling, begging, she doesn’t know what she says – she didn’t know she was capable of feeling like this.

Her perception has narrowed to just now, just this irresistible fullness, just this rush, just his words.

Telling her to hold it baby, that’s it, _that’s my girl_ … not yet, longer… and _come now_.

Rey’s body shatters on command, white behind her eyes, all pleasure and wet, shivering pulses.

Her broken keen sounds like a wounding but is more of an awakening.

Ben moves her through it, grunting and swearing at how good she feels, how good she is. How he’s _so close_ , thumb only stopping its caresses when she twitches.

She is vaguely aware of a sobbing, chanted, “ _thankyouDaddythankyouthankyou_ ” and realises it’s her own. 

“So beautiful when… you come… gonna… fill you with mine,” Ben grinds out, chest heaving.

She jolts against the bedding, completely boneless.

Made for him, a soft, small thing he can fill up.

“You want that don’t you? Yeah you do… _my_ sweet little cunt… you’re gonna fucking… _take_ it all… such a good girl,” he pants, voice little more than a growl.

His unrestrained possession burrows into her – she does take it all greedily – and her whispered “I want it, _please Ben_ ” and shaky reach for him above is enough.

She notes how his forehead creases before his release, intending to always remember what this looks and sounds like.

With faltering hips he throws his head back to a primal, guttural sound.

Driving deep, his dick twitches heavily with each warm rush of cum as he empties into her.

Their combined liquid seeps out of the tight space where they are joined.

Ben drops her legs to the sides and collapses, his weight a sweltering blanket of safety and crushing, delicious pressure.

Her face is in his massive chest, she can barely breathe.

A sense of rightness fills Rey as her thighs twitch where they’re splayed wide on his bed. She almost expects to wake up from a wonderful dream.

This sated, surrendered space she’s in while holding him, there’s a freedom in it she’s not experienced before. She hasn’t had to think, she’s just been able to feel.

And there’s pride, too. She might be the inexperienced one but she’s also brought him to this state.

Ben braces himself up on his forearms and curls to bury his damp head between her neck and shoulder. Their breathing is the loudest sound in his room as she clings to him.

He begins to soften inside her but makes no move away.

“ _Elders_ … kriff, Rey… wow, I…” is mumbled into her jumping pulse point and he crushes her to him, a small choked noise in the back of his throat.

She cards her fingers through his bedraggled hair, nuzzling his crown.

“Mhm. R’iia, I’ve never…” she trails off, her brain both so empty and too full, eyes feeling tight.

This has been far more consequential than after she’d actually first had sex.

When his cock slips out heavily he flips them both, moulding her territorially until she’s immobile on top of him.

Petting her hair and body, lingering with pleased rumbles at the mess dripping from her now aching vulva. Again and again, as he tremors and the rising and falling of his chest lulls her body.

Rey comes back to herself slowly, safely. Piece by piece. A jigsaw rearranged in his wake but fitting better now within those spaces she’d tried to force into harmony, but hadn’t recognised the mismatch of before.

She can’t go back from this and doesn’t want to.

At one point he massages his cum-slicked fingers into her skin, along the notches of her spine.

She glances up to see his hooded, amber flecked eyes and satisfied smirk, and immediately knows why; she sucks a mark of her own into his pectoral in answer and he shakes with delighted amusement.

“You were so good for me, Rey,” he kisses into her tangled hair. “So perfect, you did so well. Thank you for letting me take care of you, sweetheart. I’m going to keep doing that now, so your mind can have time to safely process. May I run you a bath?”

As if she'd say no, but it's nice to be reminded she always has the option.

“I need you to wait here. I have to grab a couple of things but I’ll be back soon, you’re not going to be alone.”

She nods into him muzzily, warm and prostrate, and he rolls her into his duvet and pulls a pillow under her head before moving away.

Sounds of running water come from his en-suite bathroom with wafts of fragrant, jasmine steam.

He disappears into the hallways and is gone for a little longer. Rey tries to stay in the afterglow but her mind dips with surprising sharpness, a well of sadness opening in her belly. She has no idea why.

When Ben’s footsteps return and the mattress dips with his weight beside her, she makes a whimpering, sad sound.

His forearm presses under her head and shoulders to prop her up and he holds a glass to her lips. “Water, drink now. Are you feeling a little low?”

She gulps at it half-lidded, now realising her own thirst.

"Yeah… don’t know why. I'm not... used to..." _the satisfaction, the safety_ , she wants to say.

"It’s a bit of sub-drop, sweetheart. A lot of big feelings, plus the adrenaline and endorphins wearing off. This is normal, I'm here. You won't always feel like this afterwards," he hastens to add, "but it's a big release, especially your first time."

She feels a soft press to her lips, tastes sweetness.

“A small sandwich, muja jam and chee nut butter. Eat for me, this will help. I’ll have to get you more chocolate, it’s good for this. Then I’ll clean you up. I made a mess of you.” His small chuff of laughter is sheepishly pleased.

She smiles distantly, her muddled emotions receding, growing less jagged, and chews with closed eyes before the duvet is tugged away and her socks pulled from her feet.

A large arm comes under her knees and she’s lifted up, walked into the bathroom and lowered gently into warm, fragrant bubbles.

He shifts her forward in his double tub and supports her back as he clambers in behind, pulling her to his chest, tucking her crown under his chin.

Silent for a long while as she allows her arms to float out.

Sweeping at the bubbles and listening to their soft crinkle and pop.

There’s still a delicious, relaxed emptiness inside her head as well – it _can_ be quiet in there.

* * *

He washes her as promised and she teases him about the number of high-end hair and skin care products lining his long bathroom vanity.

They talk deep into the afternoon, through her own shared test results and a late lunch of leftover cacciatore, through her thanks and his flushing, pleased kisses in response.

Much of their conversation is about terms and safety, so she can better understand what it is she’s entering into.

BDSM, aftercare, that fuzzy headspace she likes so much… and bratting. She may have fun with the latter.

Ben explains the importance of being explicitly honest about their likes, dislikes and limits – how this dynamic can work, but what can go wrong if they don’t have frank discussions.

Even so, he raises the idea of controlling her orgasms with a tremulous half smile. It’s a major kink of his, but he doesn’t expect her to agree.

Yet she knows her reaction – all wide-eyes, a little o-shaped mouth and pinkening cheeks at his explanation – tells him before her words do that she's just determined this is something that excites her as well.

He’s honoured to be her first experience of all of this, he says, and her heart pulls tight, pinging with a new sort of happiness.

"Is it weird?" she asks him. “Getting off on, um… calling you Daddy? Should I be worried?”

"Nothing about you could be weird to me. And if you are, I'm weird too. No judgment, you get to like what you like. We’re not hurting anyone and you’re allowed to enjoy being taken care of. I did have a question about your panties... I saw them helping you with your washing."

"My _underwear_ ," she laughs. "R’iia, anything but that word! They were a joke from Rosie. In addition to being lovely and hilarious, she can be... terrifyingly observant, I guess? I didn't think anything of them, until I... _did_ , after spending more time with you."

"Remind me to thank her."

"Maker she'll love that, insufferably."

That night Rey sleeps in Ben’s bed.

She tells him at the dinner table that his duvet is far more snuggly and she thinks his pillows felt more soft.

Really, they’re probably the exact same brand as in the guestroom, but he quirks an eyebrow and says uncertainly that maybe she should stay in there with him, if she’ll be that much more comfortable.

It’s what she wanted.

With her special blanket draped over the duvet and Porg tucked in beside her, she pushes up against him. Warm and safe in the shelter of his arms as the Hothstorm’s night-time howl is softer outside.

It’s as good to just be held by him as she thought it would be, exactly as comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mix of plot and various D/s smut acts from here on out, my good gentlepeople. You have been warned etc etc.
> 
> [Bed socks inspo](https://pin.it/gREXJDC). Just linking because I have these and they are hnnggg.
> 
> This is bidet stan account.
> 
> [Eugroothwa](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Eugroothwa). Me: Damn. I have committed myself to making silly Star Wars versions of real life brands for this fic, haven't I? Also me: hahaha funny names.
> 
> The artisan colony of [Kiros](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Artisan_colony).
> 
> [Ben's black good boy sweater](https://pin.it/3JS5MMI), fic edition.
> 
> [Inspiration](https://pin.it/1M09VOK) for the Skywalker heirloom saber.
> 
> [Chee nut](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chee_nut).
> 
> 💕 Kudos and comments are a warm duvet during a Hothstorm 💕


	7. If I Can Help It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ben feels liable to acquiesce to anything she says. It would be difficult not to just be content while cradling an armful of warm and freckled sunshine._  
>  \---  
>  _The lack of recent braiding practice shows in his work, but it is **his** work, on **her**..._
> 
> [Ben has many feelings about recent happy changes.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All POV Ben for this chapter, then back to mixed for the next one.
> 
> CW: Minor character pregnancy discussion  
> Brief mention of a minor character using a (SW universe) drug.  
> A little more about unhappiness in Rey's childhood (sandstorms in Jakk'u).

Ben gradually comes back into consciousness, to rumpled sheets pulled half off his body, one arm flung up and away in sleep. He always runs hot, and tendrils of hair cling to one side of his face.

It takes him a disorientated moment to work out where he is, only because how he’s feeling _isn't_ typical for waking in his bed.

Sometimes he'll wake excited to go to the gym, or at least content to begin his routine, but equally frequently he rouses with a sense that he has to just get through the day as best he can without cracking a molar.

Here there are soft snores, and a warm weight pinning his deadened other arm.

A thin wedge of dim light cuts the semi-darkness, falling across ruffled chestnut hair splayed over his shoulder. Highlighting her face placid in sleep with darker eyelashes fanning her creased and rosy cheeks. 

_Rey_.

Nestled serenely against him, the corner of her slack mouth shining with a little drool.

It’s perfect.

The lean, twitchy leg wedged between his own, her using him as a pillow, the arm plastered to his bare stomach, and the sort of nest she’s made from almost all of his grey duvet; the whole experience.

It was the most unexpected of pleasures, when she’d wanted to sleep in his bed in addition to frankly ruinously good sex yesterday. He hasn’t come that hard in a very long time.

Now this trust she displays in her unconscious intimacy feels like a gift; how close she wants him even in sleep. A gentle reflection of how she gave herself to him yesterday.

_This stunning, strong, kind woman offered her trust and pleasure to_ me _._

She still smells faintly of jasmine.

As usual, and far more insistently of late, Ben wakes half-hard. Yet it’s his surge of emotion for his beautiful bed mate – not just her clinging, naked form pressed against his – that makes his dick twitch.

His elated shock hasn't dulled in the hours since he realised she wants to be with him.

He’d marvelled at it yesterday, standing over a sandwich and dazedly spreading chee nut butter while questioning how he’d managed to end up in such a wonderful position.

This effervescent lightness in his chest is still unfamiliar, brought by her daylight that started to melt a deep chunk of black ice from the moment they met.

Even having seen some of how guarded and serious and anti-social he can be, she wants him, at least so far. Even with his scar.

He reminds himself of some of Dr Jade-Holdo's advice: to leave the past – his old job, his period of disconnection from his family – in his history where it belongs. To learn from it and focus on his actions in the present.

He can certainly try, desiring nothing more for his continuing present moments than to keep letting her want him and be worthy of it.

It’s a good time to order his day. Reaching out for his phone carefully, so as not to disturb Rey, he awkwardly thumbs out messages single-handed (wishing for a bigger keyboard) to his group chat with Hux and Phasma.

**I won't be in the digital office today. Let me know if there's anything urgent but I believe we were on top of everything on Friday. Korrie’s latest employment case seems solid.**

A Hux: _Hopefully this is because you're on top of a certain someone finally. You’ll make Dopheld’s day by disappearing. He’s still scared of you, even remotely._

Ben rolls his eyes at the ceiling at both comments. He has no idea why, re: Mr Mitaka. Ben can be a perfectionist, true, but he puts a great deal of effort into raising his voice less these days.

Terrorising assistants (let alone those on loan) is something best left in Korriban.

Phas S: _Doph is my clerical gem, but yes; easily spooked. And for once I agree with my bothersome cousin. I'd have more energy to be annoyed you didn't tell me you actually have a romantic prospect if I wasn't already constantly tired and the size of a van (and having about as comfortable a time manoeuvring)._

**You adore us, and that kid was always going to be tall.**

A Hux: _To her folly she does._

Phas S: _When I've popped out this giant infant it's over for the both of you. I can't wait for maternity leave. And I am happy with how Korrie’s Sloane v. Motti Shipyards case is developing, we expect other plaintiffs will come forward._

A Hux: _Just think, at least you're not due soon so you don't have a bracing emergency services ride in a sealed survival suit to look forward to._

Phas S: _I hate you._

Ben snorts, opting to leave them to it with the best Monday in recent (and not so recent) memory stretching before him, but his noise causes Rey to stir.

She scrunches up her nose, pulling the duvet to meet it and stretching her neck languidly along with her legs under the covers.

_Adorable_ feels like the only fitting word. He slings his other arm across her to pull her closer, sure that everything from the moment they met was leading not just to sex, but to this.

To this future shape of something for them; clear, solid, natural.

"Hi," he whispers in his deeper, morning rasp, staring at the dwindling, dotted signs of the sun across her nose.

He’d try to count them if he were more mathematically minded, or draw them mapped as constellations if he’d kept up his boyhood sketching.

"Mmhph… hi," Rey mutters.

Then smacking her lips, with words still thick with sleep and tightly closed eyes, she ventures: “Are you always chirpy in th’ morning? Am I gonna have to smother you with a pillow if I wanna sleep past seven?”

“No, and I’ll have you know it’s not that early,” Ben chuckles, ghosting his fingers to tickle her side so she squirms.

He clears his gravelly throat. “I promise to be exceptionally surly on occasion too. I just don’t usually wake up next to someone beautiful.”

“Oh?” She blinks open her hazel eyes and he loses himself for a moment in the flecks of gold and green.

“It isn’t how I have… arranged things, in the past. But I like this very much.”

She gives a pleased little hum. “Me too.” Snuggling further into him for several blissful minutes before groaning.

"Sod my sodding bladder. Size of a yubnut. Hol' on."

For a second he thinks Rey is going to drag the entire duvet and blanket with her as she dramatically heaves herself up (she seems to consider it), but she trudges naked to his bathroom while rubbing her face, making an impressive amount of noise for someone her size.

Ben props up on one elbow, enjoying the view of her soft curves that imprinted themselves on his mind yesterday, the slope of her back rising to two dimples and the high swell of her ass cheeks… until the door closes and he flops back with a private smile, recovering some bedclothes real estate.

The storm has quietened further overnight, its howl tamer and much less distracting.

There are sounds of water, a rustle on the bedroom floor before she returns, and he holds open the covers for her to slide back against him.

Knit brushes his bare skin; she's purloined his black sweater.

The cashmere puddles around her small body, _breathtakingly_ erotic (more so even than his cardigan). Especially considering what they did to make it unwearable.

Just like that, he's almost fully hard.

"That's the best use for that sweater now I can think of," he rumbles, pulling her close.

"An advanced level of _if I lick it, it's mine_?" she chuffs, darting out her tongue to do just that to his deltoid, to his delight. "It's mine if I come so hard I put my hand through your expensive clothing?"

"Mmm," he concedes at her estimation of what it cost. "But it doesn't matter, I'll get another. It is my fault after all," he smirks. "Looks better on you."

"After what I saw in the mirror, I need it.” She pokes him in the pectoral. “You did a number on my chest region, mister."

"I was just adding to my own enchanting view. I regret nothing."

Pulling down the sweater neckline, he sportively licks at her and growls in an animalistic way. Merlot-coloured marks dot along and below her delicate clavicle that lies beneath skin paled by recent time indoors.

She yelps and makes little _hehehe_ noises until he tightens one arm around her and lounges his head back on his other against his pillows.

“If I’m a borcatu, which I’ve decided I like by the way, then _you_ are a _wampa_.”

“Mhmm,” he hums agreeably, looking down his chin. “Accurate.”

Quite frankly, Ben feels liable to acquiesce to anything she says. He’s very pleased with himself – both with the outlook for his day so far and with recent additions to his life.

Happy also to wait out his dick resting heavily against his thigh and let her recover, even if the sound and feel of her coming around him and the flush on her screwed up face are still _very_ fresh in his mind.

It would be difficult not to just be content while cradling an armful of warm and freckled sunshine.

Rey rests her chin on his chest, gaze cautious and questioning.

"So... double triple checking, we are actually in a _relationship_ , right? Not just a— something else. I don't know."

"Yes, we most certainly are. Did I not give you that impression?" Ben frowns. Did he really mess it up, that she questions it? "When I called you mine I meant it. I _very much_ want to be in a relationship with you."

"No, no, I just... I’ve never actually _been_ in a relationship before. So I might cock this up, sorry in advance. I just needed to hear that very explicitly, so I know." She rolls her lips inward into a small, thin line.

The show of insecurity and self-doubt, as with her studies, yanks a tight string painfully around his insides. Even if it is a sign she's as invested as he is; already, for it to be otherwise would be heart-breaking.

Ben speaks very deliberately, to avoid misunderstandings.

"You will not. Because you are _wonderful_ and we are doing this _together_. I’m relatively new at serious relationships too, it’s been many, many years. Besides… I happen to like being your first in _whatever_ I can be."

He'd suspected Rey wasn't experienced, but this is something else, and it’s not an aspect he'd even been much drawn to until her.

Ben doesn't try to keep the heat out of the husky tone his voice drops further into, but he does try to kiss away her worries.

Something about the domestic intimacy of their sleep-soured mouths and tongues moving against each other is very enjoyable, where he’s previously found the idea repellent.

When Rey pulls back with pinkened lips she laughs, a silvery sound, and her eyes are bright again. "You’re a very possessive man, aren’t you Mr Solo?"

"With you? _Yes I am_ ," he growls, a smile tugging at his lips.

He rolls her back against him, on their sides with his arm under her neck, keeping his erection carefully away from her rear.

Brushing aside her hair he presses kisses against her nape, pushing up his (now her…) sweater so it pools around her neck and mouthing at the flesh below her small but developed upper trapezius.

Lifting weights with her is something he’d like to do.

There are still some scattered freckles on the backs of her shoulders as well, and he sucks a fresh sign of him onto her unmarred back.

"Stop, wampa man!” she chortles, arching her neck. “Leave my tender flesh alone!"

"Never, you're still far too delicious. I've got you in my powerful arms and razor-sharp claws."

He feigns gnawing on her and she dissolves into increasingly snorty laughter.

When Ben was a boy he had once been chatting to Luke on the terrace of Varykino late in the evening, having snuck out from his favourite of the family villa’s many bedrooms.

After being read a story by grandpa he should have been fast asleep. Tucked in the carved, four-poster bed that yiayia always ensured was dressed with an embroidered bedspread he loved, depicting Naboo’s native animals.

The occasion was a holiday with the entire family that became rarer as his parents grew more busy; long before things grew fraught between him and his uncle.

The then less aged hippie had told him about perfect moments, that there would be times that would seem to move more slowly, of which he'd remember all the details.

Later, he’d put some of their conversation down to the refined namana Luke had recently ingested, but now Ben thinks this is one of those special occasions.

Rey snuggles against Ben’s heated chest, pulling the duvet up further, and makes a surprised sound when the rounded cheeks of her backside meet his now very obvious interest.

"It'll go down, you're just extremely enticing," he rumbles, thumbing over the gentle crest of her hipbone.

He’s happy just to hold her, just to look at her.

Or perhaps to lap at her honeyed centre… stay for the morning between her thighs making her come and come. It’s an idea with many merits, from the taste he had yesterday (not for long enough).

"Well... I don't think I'm too sore for you to be inside me, my colour is green," she murmurs.

"Oh? Did I not do a good enough job yesterday?" The pleasure behind the teasing owns that the idea is very tempting.

"Maybe you need to remind me whose I am again... Daddy," she whispers slyly, with a touch of hesitance unsurprising for how new this is to her.

The title is taking some getting used when she’s not already mentally deep in a scene.

From past experience he knows it can take time to adjust past the large element of taboo.

As he muses her deft little fingers have slipped between them to stroke along his hard length. Ben lets her hand roam for a few moments, smearing beads of sticky pre-cum over his glans and generating shivers of pleasure until his hips are flexing compulsively and he growls – moving cage her against himself, flush against his twitching cock.

"Hey, blimmin spoilsport, I didn't get to feel you up much yesterday." She cranes her neck with an affected pout.

He grazes his fingers around her nearer nipple and her breathing grows more laboured.

"Cheeky little girls have to make Daddy come as penance—" he pinches the little nub while ushering her into the desired headspace, rolling it between his fingers as she whines— "but nice little girls get to come too. Which are you baby?"

"B-Both?"

"Good answer. Put your leg up over mine. Let me feel how you're doing down there."

Ben tightens his arm where it's slung under her to pin both her arms, questing his free hand between her soft folds where she’s already growing slippery.

"Almost needy enough for me already huh," he speaks into a grin against her hair, rubbing at her clit while she whines until her glances back at him grow foggy and he can picture how glossy she’s become.

Sliding a single finger past her entrance, he pets deeper within her snug, textured warmth – wondering if some of his own thick fluid still lingers.

"Sure you’re not too sore to take me? You know you're _so_ little, I’m impressed I fit..."

"Y-Yes, yes Daddy, please, it's only a bit tender. But a good kind of tender, it doesn’t feel bad. It’s just... that was only the third time I've had anything in me that wasn’t my own fingers. I _want_ you."

His hips jerk hard against her ass of their own volition, causing her to squeak, and he can’t help breaking out of his own role.

" _Emperor's black bones_ , Rey! I don't want to come on your back like a teenager."

"You've got a lot of things you like, don't you Mr Solo?" she giggles, drawing out the term of address.

"Some of which you know, and some you'll discover."

Ben pleases himself stroking at her vulva until she’s gasping and tilting her hips back against him, before positioning the head of his cock at her slick opening.

_Gentle_ , he reminds himself. _She needs gentle, she’s so new to this_. Even as he’s desperate to be inside her and _mine mine mine_ is a frenzied chorus inside his brain.

The hoarse noise that tears out of his chest barely sounds human as he sinks into her, just _slowly_.

His eyes roll back; she’s so _soft_ , so _wet_ , quivering around him. More pliant too with far fewer nerves than yesterday, but this isn’t a race.

Rey needs to adjust; he still feels her struggle to take him, and he splays his fingers around where her silky skin stretches taut to accommodate his girth.

She makes erratic little moans, twitching beneath his grip, whispering shakily once he’s hilted inside her cunt, “You fit again, Daddy.”

Ben closes his teeth around her slender shoulder with a groan, enjoying the moment he can tell everything else has fallen away and she’s entered her submissive headspace.

He’s rewarded by her walls fluttering followed by a cinch around him – she enjoys a hint of pain with her pleasure then. This is information he can use.

The bite mark draws a ring of flushed indentations around her delicate joint.

Gritting his teeth and holding still within her, he coats a finger in Rey’s arousal and dips it between her cheeks, wishing he could see but equally loving being this tangled up together.

It’s the barest of touches to her little furled hole, tracing light, soft circles. Still, she squirms with breathy mewls, and this reaction is too enticing not to begin to roll his hips – small, leisurely drags of his cock in and out of her tight cunt while stroking more firmly with his finger.

He’s no stranger to the sensations she must be feeling there and nuzzles his way past the tangle of her hair and black knit to exhale huskily against the shell of her ear. “Feels good doesn’t it? Has anyone ever touched you like this?”

His cock jumps inside her when she shakes her head.

“At some point I will have you here. Fuck your little ass with Daddy’s cock, make it mine too. You’ll be such a good girl taking it.”

The clench of her soft heat around him and decided glimmer in her eyes, darkened by desire, over her shoulder substantiates the curious interest she’d disclosed last night.

And thank _various_ deities, considering how much of a fan Ben is of anal play in general and of this peach of hers.

He really shouldn't be surprised at how open she was to discussion yesterday; that's her personality after all, hungry for new experiences.

It's more that he's used to assuming his hidden elements are off-putting and far too much in extended doses.

Ben stays like this, thrusting slowly, rubbing her tight little ring until the delayed gratification is too torturous— his desire for her overwhelming all other senses even if he enjoys teasing her— and he needs both his hands free to move.

This morning he can't resist her needy noises or find it in himself to draw out the experience further into anything complicated, he just wants to maintain her contented glow.

The duvet slips down as he shifts his weight half over her back, planting a hand and pushing her down into the mattress with her leg still bent up at the knee. Pinning her wrists in their knit onto the pillows above her head with his other hand.

Taking her partially from behind like this, with his legs straddling one of hers, she's even tighter, seeming yet more tiny under his much larger frame.

At some point he'll have to have her on her front with her legs together and really fuck her into the mattress.

He rolls his hips, pulling out almost his entire length before grinding wetly back in against her front wall. It’s gentle, he thinks, but each thrust still knocks the air from her chest. A breathy, choked noise he can't get enough of already after yesterday.

She clutches around him as he moves behind her, pushing between her creamy thighs, luxuriating in her soft, wet cunt and this early Monday pleasure.

_How long has it even been since I last had morning sex? It could be a first for her._

Perhaps his sight has blurred, or narrowed down to a pinpoint of just her beneath him with her little mewling sounds.

She’s gleaming. He wants to devour her, in every place she's gilded by even these pieces of frail daylight.

To lick all the fading freckles on her smooth skin, to know what her essence is.

He’s near insensible with all of it, struggling to keep his size and strength in check, biting the inside of his cheek because she needs his softness today.

Believing it was the right idea to bar himself from ever having this— in his own home, in his own bed rather than careful rendezvous in a hotel— seems like one of the most senseless ideas he's ever had (and there have been a few). But it did leave him open to this with her and not wrapped up in anyone else.

"Can I rub my clit please Daddy?" Her voice pulls him back to the moment.

"You may," he grunts out, releasing her dominant hand. She slips it from the sweater sleeve, impatient.

Rey’s ready acquiescence to trying this control kink of his is like nothing else. " _Very_ good girl for asking, baby."

She squeezes around him with a whine, liking this praise just as much she had yesterday. Her pleasure heightens his own, and her noises... he can't get enough.

Rey is loud, louder yesterday – just as he'd hoped after _that_ shower – but still noisy now.

The side of her round little ass jiggles tantalisingly with each thrust as he looks down their bodies and he maintains a steady rhythm until she grows tighter, wetter. Squirming with ragged breathing as she works toward release.

So Ben slows down.

Just for a moment, just to rock into her for the disbelieving squawk that follows.

“W-What? _Please_ , no no no, please, please I’m so close, _Daddy please_ I’ll do—"

Worth it. Blood roars in his ears and he can't think, can only snap his hips and clutch at her as he drives deep again— a more shrill squeak reminds him she’s tender and he taps the brakes on his pace.

“ _Oh!_ Daddy you’re… feels like you’re too big for me, ‘m too stuffed,” she gasps out in a reedy tone.

A electric jolt runs through his cock and he bares his teeth— _don’t lose it just yet_.

She’s hardly playing fair either, not with that impish, innocent lilt even as he has her gurgling and huffing.

Not to be outdone, he lowers his voice into something menacing and silky. “But your tiny cunt is taking all of me _so well_ —” he punctuates his words with the soft sucking sounds of his dick sliding through her liquid heat— “and this little hole is made for me, baby girl… just made for holding all my cum.”

And her body responds, gives itself over to him as he knew it would, melting under his weight like she needs this as much as he does.

She’s just so _cute_ , trying – and succeeding – to work him up, experimenting with this dynamic. Her pinned hand grabbing at the pillowcase so desperately he’s glad they’re not woven from something more delicate as well.

Tension and heat draw up through his balls and the sounds being forced out of both of them— he's close too, _so_ close…

“You’re going to come for me… aren’t you? So beautiful, be good… come on my cock now.”

It takes effort to keep his voice in some semblance of control, cognisant that each orgasm of hers is a gift that’s now _his_ to bestow.

Rey begins contracting around him, shaking and hoarsely moaning, attempting to arch her back.

She crests with a shriek cutting through the morning, her walls trying to hold him in place – irresistible.

Her hand stops rubbing her clit and she reaches back to grab and steady herself on his thigh, blunt fingernails digging in through her aftershocks.

It’s enough, that sting. The feedback loop of pleasure catches him and he erratically spills inside her with a drawn out, muscle-clenching gasp, coating the walls of her cunt.

She moans again as he does, a content, rewarded sound.

As yesterday, it feels like there's no place within her he _isn't_ — filling, being. He thinks something inside him is brought to life buried in her soft heat.

“T-Thank you… like you coming in me, a lot,” she slurs.

“I know you do baby. So do I.” Panting, Ben kisses the back of her neck and pulls out gingerly to her small, disgruntled huff and a gush.

He holds himself up, inspecting between her sticky thighs— her pink labia now more plump and ruddy, the heady contrast of his white cum oozing over them— before pushing the viscous mess back inside her with his fingers.

_I’ll find my tube of bactabalm… My girl will need activities other than penetrative sex for tomorrow at minimum._

“Where it belongs, try to keep it in for me,” he murmurs, giving her cunt a pat before admiring how one of his hands can span her ass cheeks, and rubbing his cum-slicked fingers against the pucker between.

She’s pretty here too, now he can really look. A ripe little bud in darker rose. Several clichés run through his mind about plucking her and he’s unashamed about all of them.

Again she lets him, with only a contented sigh, and it’s an act of willpower to not overwhelm her by doing the same across the rest of her body— imagining streaking her skin creamy white— or by pressing his fingers inside the quivering muscle.

He’ll get to that in time; he wants her prepared and as eager for it as he is, so only kisses those sacrum dimples and rolls her to face him.

She’s the loveliest mess; flushed, wild hair, jumper awry and barely around her neck and one arm. Eyes still more black than their usual gemstone irises, as sated and dreamy gazing up at him as his probably are.

Resting his chin on her stomach, he allows his lips to curl into a wide smile – feeling boyish and probably looking it, just like his mom had seen in him.

Something inside him unclenches a little more, with the idea that long-term he (and the messy intensity he likes) might not be excessive for her after all; Rey has her own shadows and edges.

"I did it _again_ ," she mumbles, sounding elated.

"Did what?"

"Came with you in me. Felt really, really good. R’iia’s shorts, _so good_."

He kneads a thumb up her side with no small amount of prideful delight. "You haven’t previously.”

She shakes her head vigorously, grinning as she winds her little fingers around the back of his neck. He didn’t phrase it as a question because two prior penetrative experiences before him don’t give good odds for orgasms, be it with dicks or dildos.

But there _is_ something a primal part of him insists upon clarifying, the part that would scent-mark around the entrance to his ice cave.

“Had you ever come from touching your g-spot as well as your clit?"

"Nope," she pops the final consonant. "Not until yesterday. For me I’ve never had much success so I thought it was a bit talked up."

Ben groans deeply against her navel, trembling the skin there. Plunged back into the memory of her first hard release around his fingers while he sucked on her. No wonder she’d seemed astonished.

_Elders, I’ll make it my mission to get her to squirt._

"You're going to kill me. I intend to rectify any deficient experiences at every opportunity.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Court ordered g-spot orgasms—” she snorts— “and anything else you haven’t done. None of this is helping my urge to never let you leave this bed, you do realise."

"What a way to go. But I might get a little whiffy."

Shivers race down the back of his neck as she runs her fingers through the layers of his hair, dragging her nails over his scalp. She’s opening up many long-closed doors of intimate touch.

“I like seeing your perfect hair messed up. Your black lashes are unfair too,” Rey hums, peering at him and seeming to enjoy this as much as he is.

"That painting, where’s it of?"

He doesn’t have to ask what she means, there’s only one in his room. Rey gazes past him at the far wall, toward a framed desert nightscape of rolling dunes and sparse, distant domed buildings, with craggy, hostile looking mountains in the background.

"My grandpa's homeland, Tatooine. Painted by my yiayia. It's not one of the easier places to make a life but it has its own beauty."

"Sounds a bit like Jakkers, although I assume it’s a natural desert. She's talented. You must’ve got her artistic streak with your calligraphy. Hmm… having it in here is fitting, it's very... you. Not in a bad way, it matches your mix of sharp edges and softness."

She curves her lips in a sweet, considering manner while her eyes move between the painting and his face.

Ben isn’t quite sure what to do with the knowledge that she's been observing him as much as, if not more than, he's been observing her. He's still unspooled in a very new way as goes to the bathroom.

When he gets back she's resolutely re-wrapped in his bedcovers.

"It's cooler in here," she gripes.

"This is how I like it." He settles himself back against the headboard and she wrinkles her nose for a moment, thinking.

"Have you been overheating?"

"Ahh, well..."

" _Ben_ , you should've said something. Turn the heat down, I can put on more clothing."

"But if you do that, it's a net loss for me."

"When you're not around then. When you are, _you_ warm me up. You make so much ruddy heat."

"Yes that _is_ a thing people do," he drawls, pulling her and her cocoon onto his lap, curling his hands over her bare thighs beneath it.

"Oi _furnace_ , I'm a person! You're like the invasive fire plant I was learning about last semester, causing problems in Kashyyyk. It heats the surrounding soil and alters the pH, that's why it's banned here. Awful bloody Imperials spread it originally, of course, like with many invasive things."

"But you’re from an Imperial area…"

"Yup, that's how I know. The region’s governors have always been a bunch of wankers," she retorts pertly before growing more animated, her hands trying to gesticulate under the bedding.

"Pity it’s such a damaging plant, it's gorgeous. They're managing it by planting rarer jaw plants in the worst affected areas, but bred to a smaller size.

“That way the jaw plants aren't dangerous to anything bigger than a small rodent, and they can make use of the chemicals its root system produces that are natural to Kashyyyk but toxic to the fire plant. It's a brilliant solution!"

Impressed as Ben always is by her keen mind, he can’t resist a tease.

"So you're saying I'm environmentally catastrophic but attractive? I require extensive management?"

"I... lost track of where I was going with my analogy," she chuffs against his collarbone before nipping him there.

He feels looser, lighter as if he's absorbed some of her brighter essence.

“You’re as clever as you are funny, little sunshine.”

She buries her face, speaking into his neck. “Am I?”

“ _Yes_ , and sunshine is what I thought when I first heard you laugh. You are so bright, Rey. Vital. Well named.” He sways from side to side as if he can rock away her hesitance at accepting compliments. “When you’re in a room, you suck the air out. I had tried not to stare at you, but I was failing at it.”

Smoothing up and down the notches of her spine under the covers makes her twitch and shift her hips in his lap. She's warmer now, her skin almost scorching against him like she's taking in something of his too.

Or maybe it's just his perception, at what he’s starting to realise he feels for her.

Ben grunts. "If you keep moving like that..."

"What, _already_? Just how high _is_ your sex drive?"

"No," he admits with a chuckle. "You’re the only twenty-four year old present. But the spirit is _very_ willing, where you're concerned at least."

Rey hums against him in a pleased sort of way until her stomach makes itself known with a loud growl, startling them both.

"Yeah... not happening anyway, sorry mate. I've had more exercise in the last day than I've had in weeks. Feed the borcatu!"

He squeezes her tighter for a moment, loath to let her go, before moving her off and finding a pair of grey sweatpants in a drawer to sling low on his hips.

"You're going to make me eat something nutritious, aren't you?" Rey scowls up at him in an affected manner, the corners of her lips twitching, and he advances.

"I promise it won't poison you. Your body may even like the additional vitamins. I know this comes as a shock, but I'm here for you during this _difficult_ period of gustatory adjustment."

She swats at him and he paws at her waist until she laughs.

"Won't it make you even later for work?"

"I’ve taken the day off. It's just after ten now," he tells her, pocketing his phone from his nightstand.

A real sleep in, for him, even including their other vigorous morning activity.

"We can spend it together seeing as I didn't get to make the most of the weekend with you."

"But—"

"Benefits of being the boss. Well, one of the bosses, don’t tell Phas and Hux I said that. They'll all survive."

The look she gives him with a small wrinkle in her brow is undisguised – if happy – surprise. He’s unsure whether it’s at dedicated attention in general or specific to him and working.

Considering his standard life balance, probably the latter.

"How are you doing now baby? May I help you clean up?" he asks before leaving the room. This morning was a minor scene for Ben, but perhaps not for her. It's still his duty.

"I feel fine after talking and being held for a while, I didn’t get sad at all. I’ll just have my preventative pee. Although I think the bidet in my bathroom senses my fear and finds moments to strike, so if I'm more than ten minutes assume it’s told its comrades about me."

"I'll mount a rescue mission, or avenge you,” he tells her with all the solemnity he can muster.

* * *

In the kitchen, Ben hums bars of a song to himself while he gathers items for breakfast.

Peeling and cutting the juicy, purple flesh of a very ripe jogan fruit into Rey’s bowl is primally satisfying, now he’s able to let himself lean into these sorts of acts. To his chagrin it’s the first time he’s had a hand in her morning (or sometimes past midday) meal.

There’s an intimacy to breakfast, Ben believes, musing as he starts his pot of coffee that the last people he shared breakfast with were family, and not recently.

“Ay up, Benny Chewbacca!”

Rey appears around the stained glass hallway arch in the salvaged black sweater and those fuzzy socks he’s now extra fond of.

He halts, jar of honey in hand, momentarily short of air.

It’s a dress on her as she pads over to him.

"I’m going to pretend I didn’t understand any of that, which is certainly true for half of it. So—” he drags his eyes down the length of her in appreciation. She looks so _right_ like this— “do I need to keep the rest of my wardrobe under lock and key? I can certainly spare you at least a t-shirt as well. Perhaps as part of a hostage exchange for my cardigan."

It's a shy smirk she gives, satisfied by his reaction. "Don't own such comfy, fancy things then Mr Solo. You need to accept the inevitable, and it’s _three_ shirts per item of knitwear."

Ben gropes her waist through the sweater hole while reaching for the cutlery drawer with his other hand.

"Alright, I can meet your terms. You’ll probably wear them better than me, or at least more scandalously. But you should also have luxurious things of your own. I'm looking forward to shopping for my baby girl, and you buying things you like too."

The look she gives him is inquisitive with a note of wariness behind her eyes and he curses himself inwardly – she doesn’t know other relatively commonplace aspects of the specific dynamic they’re favouring.

He’s set her homework, to research DD/lg and ask him any questions about elements she comes across, but he didn’t want to overload her with information while she was still processing yesterday.

Ben decides to leave that conversation for later; it's been a big two days and she may need easing into this aspect of his atavistic desire to provide (and the extent of his financial ability to do so compared to her scholarship stipend and part time work).

_I am accustomed to luxury but Rey is not. However, things can change._

Her expression clears when he presents her bowl and she plonks herself on a stool at the counter island. Rey’s love affair with food is nothing if not reliable.

“Here we go, sunshine. Homemade granola with protein moofgurt and jogan fruit. Sweetened with a little honey, although I don’t _really_ think it needs it…”

She shuts her rolling eyes on her first spoonful with a delighted moan, a wrinkle appearing between her brows. “Ben, this fruit is _amazing_! It looked weird so I haven’t been eating it. Ugh, fool.”

He pushes his tongue against the inside of his lips, trying to ignore his apparently conditioned response to Rey enjoying food— cross-legged on her stool like a tiny divinity working her way through an offering. At least now he can openly watch. He’ll buy her all the exotic fruits she can handle.

_It_ is _family legend how grandpa did all kinds of things to get yiayia her shuura…_

“That’s the last one until I can make an order, I’m afraid. I’ve been having them with breakfast. Regret your cereal choices yet?”

“I won’t dignify that with an answer. These would go _great_ with chocolate sauce.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes.

She chews happily. “Homemade… you made it?”

“No. One of my parents’ housekeepers, Cecil, sends it over.” She looks at him like he’s got two heads, or perhaps a hidden diamond-encrusted crown. “He’s had the same recipe since I was a kid.”

“Tea?” A safe change of subject.

“I will try your unholy caf.”

Ben raises his eyebrows before moving away to pour her a cup, placing it beside her along with honey, and settling onto another stool with his own bowl.

Predictably, her first sip begets a grimace and she reaches for the sweetener.

“I was about to accept my fit, _amazing_ , gourmet boyfriend _wasn’t_ trying to poison me, however…” she jokes.

“Fit and amazing?” The gangly, quiet, large-eared kid in him is hung up on two words.

She makes a noise of affirmation around a mouthful.

Even after past therapy, Ben believes that time spent in the gym is one of his useful protective layers that allows some people overlook a few aspects of his person.

Yet he doesn't get that feeling from Rey. It’s unlikely he’ll grow tired of hearing compliments from her, in the unforced way she gives them.

Several prior play partners did seem to take his physicality and money for granted— that his body _should_ look a certain way for who he is and what he likes to do, and that there should at least be semi-regular financial incentives for them in the form of gifts and meals.

He hadn’t minded— the upfront expectations met his belief he was best suited to pleasure free of intimacy— but it does mean this is where his assumptions often default to.

His ears heat and he can’t (doesn’t _try_ to) school his face into something less vulnerable, because for all his own self-doubt he realises he _cannot_ voice this; not with the only way Rey has treated him so far.

Like she's interested in him, not just in what he can do for her. In _Ben_ , as a person, rather than as a role or for any of his family names.

He can't bear Rey to imagine he thinks so little of her as to believe she ended up in his bed for other reasons.

“ _Ben_.” She searches his face with a long, odd frown; he’s been quiet for a while. “I had an awkwardly horny response from about when you first shook my hand. And then you were so sweet to me, and it turns out they _are_ very good fingers. All the rest of you is very good too. You really moisten my granola you gargantuan, shirtless man.”

Ben’s eyebrows pull up and his mind whirls. It’s different, being the one receiving rather than giving praise. Welcome, even if he doesn’t know how to reply.

Moofgurt drips onto her hand and the counter from her ignored spoon as she lets her eyes travel over him openly.

“Or… you sweeten my poisonous caf. Better?”

“Marginally.”

“You really butter my toast?”

“Yes, acceptable.” He curves up his lips.

She pokes out her moofgurt-covered tongue and he leans to press a kiss against her temple, while she curls her suspiciously moist fingers around the back of his neck with a bright, toothy smile.

“Do I have moofgurt on my neck now you gremlin?”

“Oops!” she cackles, but laces her fingers so he can’t shift away

There it is – the slightly feral side, just how he likes her.

* * *

They clean up after breakfast (utensils and skin) and she leads him to the sofa, pressing her face to a window pane before joining him.

“It’s looking better outside right? Maybe I’ll be able to video chat Finn soon. He’ll want to meet you too when he hears about everything. Understandably; it’s pretty random how we ended up here. But I reckon he and Poe will both like you. Rosie already does.”

He could kiss her for her reassurance. Does, with thumping heart gradually calming, when she sits down.

_Elders I hope they do…_

Ben isn’t one for new social situations; it’s difficult enough being forced into them through his work, but he’ll make an effort for her friends.

"That’s… relieving to hear. Hopefully we are through the worst of the storm now. The big one from when I was a teenager was very like this. I was happiest with my nose in a book but even I'd become completely stir-crazy by the third week.

“As a positive, I wasn't being stuffed in a suit and dragged to any of mom's fundraisers, but it didn't help that I had a teenaged hatred for being cooped up with my parents. I thought it was the worst thing in the world—”

He draws out the final word in dawning, sobering regret. Feeling like a titanic asshole.

“Oh baby I'm sorry, I should have thought—"

"It's _fine_ , you don't need to pretend your experiences were different for me. Ever."

Her voice is resolute, eyes flashing; she’d rather people not treat her too gingerly because of her background. He takes a mental note.

“I went through a couple of longer sandstorms, that I remember, when I was a kid. They’re a thing in Jakk’u unfortunately. I know we were at a safety shelter at least once... a lot of my memories are hazy from back then, we never stayed in the same places for long.” She shrugs, and he doesn’t speak, angrily working his jaw, but pulls her against his body.

“Older kids used to tell stories about R'iia, to scare us younger ones. She’s the local storm goddess with a nasty temper. It got pretty… exciting at times in that shelter during the worst of it, the place was nothing like what your mum established here."

"Exciting?" He knows that's not what she means, with the bruised note in her voice.

Fidgeting with a frayed wool thread from the rift in her sweater, she deflects, skirting around the unvoiced sinkhole.

"I used to imagine I was an ebon hawk, toughing it out in my nest. They’re incredible. Hardy birds. Well, I’m not there now thankfully."

He doesn’t push for information, not when they both carry old sadness. "I'd wondered about your R’iia: why her _shorts_ , especially? So it's a Jakk-upon-Treath-ism."

“ _That_ is a question I cannot answer. R’iia’s… hat? No, doesn’t sound right.”

After a hushed moment he vows, gentle but adamant, "Rey. Baby, you _never_ have to live like that again if I can help it," while stroking up and down her side. There’s a little moofgurt stain on the front of the knit.

Perhaps she doesn’t need these words when she’s already independent – an adult for years – but the need to say _something_ bears down on his breastbone.

Really, he’s wanted to voice similar sentiments each time she’s let him glimpse fragments of her history over the past weeks. Now that she’s his girlfriend – Elders, _girlfriend_ – and baby girl surely he can, and hope like hell it’s not condescending.

Perhaps it's simply too soon for such declarations in general.

Certainly too soon for his head to catch up with his mouth and work through what this could all be starting to mean; how his careful fortifications, faced with her receptiveness, simply crumbled.

Rey does look taken aback, and he steels himself for an affronted response he probably deserves, but instead she scrutinises him in unguarded hazel like he's something entirely new and marvellous, before burrowing her head against his stomach.

He strokes her tangled hair rhythmically and watches the weather through the window, letting her be as quiet as she needs, pressed against his heartbeat.

A dampness grows from her cheek on his diaphragm. Her puffs of air tickle his skin.

When the tension in Rey starts to uncoil and she shifts against him, wiping at her eyes, he turns her around to sit between his legs.

"Thanks. Sorry I don’t usually— it’s been ages, but I just… feeling looked after always gets me…” she fumbles her words, giving a long sniff and rubbing her forehead.

Squeezing her shoulders, he murmurs, "No apologies. You asked my mom about her hair," while picking up her chestnut strands. Admiring where the light picks out more golden, sun-kissed parts and where the roots are naturally darker.

She nods against his hands.

"Go get your brush for me baby, something to secure the end, and the comb from my bathroom drawer. I'll do a design for you."

Cultural meanings aside, right now it’ll make her— both of them— happy.

_We’re not_ in _Alderaan, so surely it’s fine…_

“You’re going to plait it the Alderaanian way?” she asks, eager now, and dashes away.

The hairbrush she returns with is, by his standards, horrifying. Chipped wood, sporting several ratty elastics looped around the handle and a bird’s nest of old hair amidst the bristles.

He pulls the hair from it with a raised eyebrow and can tell she's trying not to laugh, the mirth counterbalancing her red eyes.

"Bin," he mutters, handing her the mess.

"Lean forward a bit sweetheart," he asks when she resettles against him, kissing her shoulder and gently starting on her ends before working closer to her scalp.

“Feels good,” she hums, hugging her knees.

"I enjoy brushing your hair too, I’d like to do it more from now on. I’m going to do a simpler five strand braid with half your hair, because that’s one of my mom’s lessons I remember well and I’m rusty.”

The last time Ben braided hair was as a teen, weaving a family pattern for his mother when her locks held barely any grey.

She'd kept very long working days in politics throughout much of his childhood, but the occasions she showed him traditional designs had meant time spent just with her. He’d treasured them.

“Little one, I want to hear something else from your studies you're interested in. Something local, seeing as Chandrila has mercifully avoided the dreaded Ben plant."

She chuckles, and when she speaks her voice is smaller in a relaxed way.

As his comb parts and his fingers weave her lengths she slips into the calmer headspace he wants her in after being upset.

Rey tells him about how local squall hibernate in snow burrows when the weather turns and will gorge on new growth to recover as soon as it appears.

He’s familiar with the commonplace rabbit relative in parks and forests, but not with how population management permit hunting has been of mixed success; creating a culinary demand in other regions that’s led to poaching.

The lack of recent braiding practice shows in his work, but it is _his_ work, on _her_ , and Rey bounces excitedly when her fingers gingerly pat the design, itching to look in the mirror.

“We’re only a nice walk away from one of the Sah’ot river’s tributaries, so we can see squall there when the storm clears. Blackbacks roost in the sienta trees on the banks too,” he says before motioning for her to satisfy her curiosity.

“It’s a date,” she beams.

* * *

Scrabble yet again results in over an hour of differences of opinion regarding spelling, but fewer crumbs with her snack collection depleted, and more opportunities for kisses.

Rey naps with her head in his lap while they both read. To his surprise he also falls asleep on her halfway through the second movie of an old sci-fi trilogy they both enjoy. 

It’s the most unwound he’s felt for an extended period in quite some time; he only checks his emails thrice.

Later that evening Ben reclines with his hands behind his head and a half-lidded look of deep, possessive pride, watching as she pokes about his bedroom. One of the last zones of still relatively uncharted territory for her in his home.

She pauses, chewing her lip and examining a curved, golden, Alderaanian hunting knife he displays that had belonged to his Nonno Bail.

"I don't want to overstep, but can I bring a few things in here? If you’re ok with it."

Ben’s heart skips.

"I would _love_ it if you slept in here with me. Last night was wonderful and I have been worrying about you at night with the storm noise. I’d worry more after what you shared earlier—" a rush, a stumble of eager words— "and it doesn’t have to be all the time if you don’t want, the guestroom is still yours, of course. I won't go in there, for privacy."

She grins, a light washing away her uncertainty. "Hey… I’ve been wondering: the other week, did you carry me to bed?"

There's a beat of silence before he self-consciously quirks one side of his lips. "I did. It was difficult not to keep you with me."

Rey’s dimples deepen. "You know, you might _want_ to reclaim the guestroom if you see the state of it."

"My cleaners are returning as soon as this is over," he deadpans.

"Hmm, I’ve done some reading… it’s hard to get rid of a borcatu infestation. Prone to cannibalism too if food’s low. I could really use some fierce digging claws…” She inspects her hands.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Good thing I stocked the pantry prior to meeting you, and this apartment is too big just for me.”

“Yeah, your mum mentioned something similar, didn’t she?”

Ben’s bitten back amusement turns into a choke.

While Rey peruses the bookshelves in his study for literature gems hidden amongst his professional works, Ben puts her worn toothbrush in the holder beside his own (mentally adding a new one to his shopping list) and straightens her somewhat refurbished hairbrush on the bathroom counter.

He’d had a twinge of disappointment that she hadn’t wanted to take down her braid tonight— well, specifically that _he_ couldn’t do it— but it was replaced by a surge of affection when she said she wanted to wear it for as long as possible. There will be other times.

The pile of her everyday items perches on the corner of his dresser as if she still isn’t sure whether they’re completely allowed to be there, so he busies himself reshuffling some of his own clothing back into his extensive walk-in wardrobe storage, and places her things in a now empty drawer. Leaving it open for her to see when she returns.

“Can you bring my glasses with you sweetheart? I think I last put them down on my desk,” he calls into the hallway before fluffing her pillows and settling in bed, gladly, with a book of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️ for kudos and comments.
> 
> [Yubnut](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Yubnut), from Endor.
> 
> [Namana](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Namana), a tree producing somewhat addictive fruit.
> 
> Me: are there [peaches](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Peach) in-universe anyway? Wookipedia: yes but they're purple to make them spacey ofc.
> 
> [Fire plant](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Fire_plant). Ben really tried not all imperials and Rey wasn't having it.
> 
> [Jaw plant](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Jaw_plant). Smells like jogan fruit, big enough to eat humans.
> 
> [Jogan fruit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Jogan_fruit).
> 
> [Shuura](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Shuura), AKA the fruit Anakin levitates to Padmé.
> 
> [Ebon hawk](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ebon_hawk).
> 
> [The braid](https://pin.it/2Yw61lQ) Ben does for Rey.
> 
> [Squall](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Squall_\(species\)), a much-smuggled Chandrilan animal.
> 
> [Blackback](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Blackback), a Chandrilan bird.
> 
> [Sienta trees](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Sienta_tree).
> 
> Bail's [hunting knife](https://pin.it/1N8H7Cm), for his canon beloved activity.


	8. Replenishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Have you ever been spoiled by someone?”_   
>  _“No.” She doesn’t need to think about her answer._   
>  _“Then let me spoil you. Let yourself try having things easier.”_
> 
> \---
> 
> Rey and Ben are both hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hi.  
> [Lister from Red Dwarf voice]: "Three million years! I've still got that library book."
> 
> My brain this chapter: What if... dowsing... with a cunt... for groceries???  
> Look, it's been a long year.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is lovely to writers and understanding that globally we're all going through it, and especially to anyone who's left nice comments for me. Thanks for still reading 💜
> 
> I’ve got a [late Victorian fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26605930/chapters/64870180) going, if you’re into that.
> 
> Additional CW: >Emotional discussion touching on Ben's old injury, his past shitty job, & family estrangement. >Discussion of sex work (no whorephobia).

"This is my favourite Ben Solo so far. The lightly dressed home edition." Rey bubbles up a laugh, fresh from folding their clean clothing and as eager as is usual now to make her way back to him, wherever he is in the apartment.

But he doesn’t seem to hear, facing away in the kitchen with his bulk hunched over something taking his attention. White t-shirt stretched across his back and grey sweatpants slung low.

Touchable. Hers to touch.

The breakfast nook houses some of his office essentials now and the day to day difficulty of the Hothstorm has been a little easier, for both of them. Sharing space when he’s not on conference calls. Just across the room from her sofa cocoon, with her laptop and course texts she’s trying with mixed success to get ahead in.

When she’s not doing chores for them too.

_If Maz or Rosie and Finn could see me now…_

Their laundry, done to _Ben’s_ standards, and yesterday he checked (pushed her up against the dryer for praise and kisses when he saw she hadn’t overloaded the machine this time). Keeping the kitchen bench clear. A short list of tasks so far, while generally trying to be neater.

It turns out he might find spots of food endearing on her, but not so much on his furniture.

There’s a part of her brain that tells her it _should_ be strange, agreeing to this, set by a partner. So perhaps it's stranger still that it doesn't feel so at all. Not really.

These chores and boundaries secretly delight her, the further contribution she can make to their odd little lockdown life. Music and his fancy headphones make it go easier (especially, to her amusement, several of what were already littlespace-appropriate songs), as does slipping into a certain headspace even while stacking the dishwasher.

Rey presses her forehead between Ben’s shoulder blades, rubbing her nose against the soft cotton with a kiss.

Breathing him in sets a possessive spark fluttering low in her belly, as she snakes her arms as far around the firm span of his waist as she can get.

With his shields lowered now he maintains small points of contact whenever feasible and drapes his big body around her if he has a chance. As clear in his desire for intimacy outside the bedroom as he is within, his arms slung around her each morning, waking hard and interested and warm.

_My sated Loth-wolf who has caught what he wants._

Rey grasps at all his affection with the same half-frantic drive she usually has for experiencing new delights. With a deeper, more fundamental sort of yearning too.

He’s her equal in certain innermost, needy excesses. They’re intense together already with no one else around to judge.

Ben turns in her arms, looking dazed to be pulled away from his phone which sits like a playing card in his big hand, and enfolds her with a long exhale.

Rey frowns up at his drawn expression. “Are you feeling alright? You’re a little peaky."

"Uh... yes.” He blinks rapidly, refocussing on her. “Yes, I've been liaising with our paralegal pool about a frustrating issue. I _am_ going to fill my own PA position again, really. Have it filled, I mean. I know I can’t keep sharing.”

Thankfully he can’t see her smile against his chest, at his defensive tone despite her being too in the dark on the issue to mount any debate.

Ben, she’s gathered, is a bit of a micromanager who struggles letting others put their fingers in his work life pie.

He toys with the hem of the matching, and thus over-large, t-shirt he'd put on her that morning (a compromise of sorts; she’d tried to wear it to bed and he’d tugged at it with a look of baffled offence until she was bare to him again).

Rey hadn't known Mon Cal'Armani even made items this casual.

"My yiayia’s still worrying about the _unnatural winters_ here— that's what she says, so I spent a decent amount of time talking her down too. I've had messages from mom telling me to reassure her I’m not short of food."

He huffs out an amused breath that turns into a sigh against her hair, rubbing it with his cheek and a hum. "I probably just need coffee, I was about to make some."

Come to think of it he'd seemed oddly bereft when she'd brushed out her tangled hair after sleeping in his braid twice. He’d claimed it was nothing but before he smoothed his face, his expression didn’t agree.

"You work too much and you need a _break_ , is what you need." Rey sways him from side to side, like trying to move a boulder until he concedes. “You’re out of sorts.”

The pull of self-depreciating amusement at his lips says that while he hasn’t agreed he’s not exactly arguing either.

Moving with him like this gives her an idea.

“Dance with me. However you like.”

“Dance?” There’s a moment where refusal is poised behind his lips, but he searches her face and the new looseness in him wins out.

He’s the one to reach for his phone and their playlist. To grab her hand aloft with his other at her waist, arranging her how he likes. His dimples bloom at her surprise.

“Oh you thought I was just going to shuffle my feet with you? Wrong, little one.”

Their waltz begins in slow turns to the open space between the living and dining areas during the [melodic, metal ballad’s](https://youtu.be/8bSq4eB9cO8) opening instrumentals.

He leads with a practiced grace and firmness, the tension already melting from his shoulders. So warm and near, her hand comically tiny in his oversized paw.

“You’ve given me an opportunity to show off. And you’re _my_ dance partner now so I won’t mortify myself again with irrational jealousy.”

“Okay,” she whispers, a little shamefaced at that reminder, but not enough to resist a tease. “As long as you don’t step on me with your wampa feet.” 

He barks out a genuinely amused sound. “My mother would have words about money wasted on lessons if I did.”

“Really, with an instructor and stuff? Hence this, I guess.”

“In all common Core Zone formal dances. To be a suitably polished Organa-Skywalker legacy child.”

The affected plummy accent coats a note of bitterness even as his fingers graze the top of her backside, palm sliding lower from bracketing her waist and back.

“Well you’ve definitely impressed me.” Her eyebrow quirks. “But were you also taught this hand placement?” She wants to keep his head here in the present, with her.

“Under Madame Yaddle’s watch? Never. This is just me taking liberties with my beautiful partner.”

> _This is the time_
> 
> _For chasing my desires_
> 
> _What's in my heart is true_
> 
> _And if my dreams set everything on fire_
> 
> _Then I would still belong to you…_

Thanks to Poe and Finn’s dance nights she’s a quick study, though not immune to distraction by the lyrics. Did he choose this song for more than the 3/4 beat?

"Ow," Ben utters blandly, clearly biting back a smile when she treads on his foot for the second time.

But his gaze stays so soft throughout and when the song ends he presses her tightly to him, answering the upward tilt of her chin with his mouth.

“Thank you. Better than a gala,” he mumbles, his breath tickling her lips before kissing her again. "I remember my grandparents dancing here."

The tightness in her chest is unfamiliar and she bites back her prepared quip of _Daddy needs looking after too_ , choosing instead to let this wash over her. Savouring a new, blossoming feeling.

Her thumbs fit perfectly in his laugh lines as she turns his face this way and that to better drink him in. Imagining him older, greying, and the happy crinkles at his eyes become crow’s feet.

* * *

The smell of rubber gloves lingers on Rey’s hands and her forehead is sticky against her arm, but her head buzzes with pride.

It swirls with information too, podcasts being one avenue for fulfilling Ben’s DDLG research task.

“I’ve finished the en-suite. Hopefully it’s alright, I reached all of the shower and—”

“ _Rey_ , I’m sure you’ve done a great job. Good girl, thank you.”

Ben’s face is lit up in his office chair at the nook. If she finds fulfilment in her tasks despite her messiness, he enjoys setting them even more.

“I’m proud of you for taking this on sweetheart. Remember the bathrooms are only until lockdown ends.”

_Bathrooms_ … he did say plural… but still, she preens.

Before Ben she’d received praise from Maz, yes. After many earlier experiences of the opposite.

But never specifically the two words she now loves best. It’s more special somehow, as a result. Something just for them.

He rolls back his chair, gesturing to his laptop. "I’m taking a break for a supermarket order. We can get a delivery slot for the day after tomorrow, with how the storm is dropping."

"Worried your personal nutritional challenge with me might be compromised? I ate a vegetable with lunch, remember."

"I do remember, because I made you." His lips twitch up and as she steps nearer he reaches for her hand in a way that seems reflexive.

"Alright, I’m glad we won’t starve. I can deposit—"

" _I_ will cover this,” he cautions, squeezing her fingers.

“I would _like_ to cover this.” The correction is made in clear reluctance. “You don't owe me a single credit."

_Ah. Right. Luxurious things of my own, he did say. Shopping for me._

With her research it’s not a shock but it’s difficult to process, hard to stomach.

"So, um, you were serious about buying me stuff. How does this work?"

Ben looks over his reading glasses, rubbing at the new, light stubble on his jaw. It was pleasurable, if different, against her breasts this morning.

"Yes we should talk about this. I _like_ paying for things, and you _deserve_ to have nice things. I’m not pushing you to share more, but from what you've already said I think you've gone through enough scarcity. Maybe it’s time for a little abundance?”

She doesn’t refute him. Doesn’t say anything either way. Just twists her hands and looks at the open tab for a chain of stores she’s never even set foot in.

“Also, uh, gifting is something I really enjoy. Financial caregiving is an element of this dynamic that I would like to more fully explore with you. Such as through an allowance."

"You know you're cute when you get bashful," she tells him, trying to unclench her body and avoiding that last tiny bombshell for now. "Buying me things is a kink Mr Solo, that’s what I'm hearing."

Ben rolls his eyes, like he sees her defensive humour for what it is. "Come here brat."

A thick arm around her waist pulls her sideways onto his lap, pressing her backside against the evidence.

" _Yes_ , the idea of seeing you wearing or enjoying things I've bought interests me a lot. Can you feel how much?” he asks quietly against her hair, a smile in his voice.

"Paying for what you need gives me pleasure, and I want to build extra gifts into rewards for you when you're a _very_ _good girl_ for me and are consistent with tasks or goals or boundaries we agree upon. Like drinking your water and coming to bed on time, you’ve been doing _so well_ so far. Call it... a strong urge to provide. As you’ll have noticed.”

She has, of course. Has loved it too. So he’s got a point, the owner of these hands soothing over her back and making her cunt throb.

“You're still your own person. No financial aspect will ever make you beholden to me. I'd never push for any kind of contract with you either, that's not— what we have together _isn't_ that. I don’t want it to ever be that."

The information she’s gravitated to has been from couples who haven’t mentioned contracts. But she just nods; some kind of written agreement doesn’t appeal over having room to grow and learn and breathe. It’s too new.

_Feeling at all like a commodity probably wouldn’t send me into a good headspace either._

“Rey, I'm doing this very, _very_ willingly. Spending willingly. My outgoings do not exceed my incomings, even with sizeable donations. Have you ever been spoiled by someone?”

“No.” She doesn’t need to think about her answer.

“Then let me spoil you. Let yourself try having things easier. _Please_."

Care was a scarce or missing resource for such a large period of her life that it’s hard to pay closer attention to the knot in her stomach, over the tentative but stubborn hopefulness in his voice. The way his body pulls taught around her, begging for her assent.

There's a heady, darker impulse to just lean into it too, to see how far she can let the extent of his care encompass her. As if she's _owed_.

Rey tries to tamp it down beneath a twinge of guilt.

"All…right."

Ben’s arms squeeze tighter, chest heaving out a breath in ill-concealed excitement. "So you'll try this for me?"

Talking things over with Rose will help order her thoughts. She nods again.

"Wonderful girl. We'll start out simple, right where we are. Are you green?"

He presses a kiss onto the tip of her nose when she gives her consent, and at least he's not wanting to jump straight into big purchases. Although her suspicion still is that their definitions of _simple_ are very different.

"Okay, here’s how this is going to work now. Baby girl, you’re going to help me choose groceries. For each fruit or vegetable you pick you can have one horrifying snack choice."

Rey snorts and pokes him in the pectoral, but she's missed out winning Rose's snack wager now (for the best of reasons), so what _do_ treat foods look like at a childhood ballroom dance lessons level of wealth?

And… well… the fabric of her pyjama shorts bunched between her legs _has_ grown damp, his words eliciting sharp tugs behind her bellybutton.

Green beans earn her more iced animal biscuits (which for some reason make him growl and pull her back against his erection).

Jogan fruit is no difficulty but gains her sugared cereal just the same, with which to horrify him with chocolate sauce in future.

Ben’s fingers not at the keyboard creep up her thigh while she decides on ludicrously priced local hydroponic grappaberries for three blocks of pure milk Trammistan chocolate (the fancy stuff she’s never bothered to peruse in store, _and_ he insists on more for aftercare).

Cherry tomatoes in exchange for sour gummy worms. He’s annoyed there’s no shuura and doesn't appear to notice whether anything is on sale or not.

But when Ben ghosts his fingers under her shorts leg it’s impossible to make choices and her answers grow clipped and terse. Impossible to take in all the options that come with not shopping in the specials section or to a very limited budget.

His low, amused noises don’t help, at the tacky cotton sticking to the mess at her vulva where he pets her.

Rey is soft and held, tucked against his firm chest and warm all over, yes. But fractious too, and fuzzy head or no she’d prefer to be done with this, to move on to the part with his fingers or mouth or cock at her cunt.

“ _Rey_.” Again he says her name as a warning and again she ignores it. This time his hand leaves the keyboard, taps a beat of caution against the table. “You’re being very unhelpful. Me calling you a brat wasn’t a suggestion, little one.”

She rests her head back against his shoulder, closing her eyes to the screen.

_Yes… maybe I am. Maybe I like it._

"So? I can't... concentrate, I’m done," she mutters, shifting uncomfortably, trying to urge his fingers to stroke harder.

“‘ _So_ ’ huh?” he tuts, a slow click of his tongue near her ear. “You’re done when I say you’re done, sweetheart. You know we need to stock up. Or do you want us to run out?”

She keeps her mouth shut. Smiles a small, secret thing to herself.

“Answer me.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t _what_ , Rey? Manners now.” All in the lower register she wants.

She enjoys the shiver that rises up her neck for a beat too long because suddenly she’s being lifted, with a squeak. The laptop is shifted aside and the tabletop presses to her front, her socks scrabbling for purchase on the floor.

Ben leans his weight over her back, forcing out her air.

“Seems I can’t trust you to behave and mind your mouth. So put your thumb in it _brat_ , unless you need your colours.”

A sweet sort of relaxation rolls through her the moment she sucks.

“Stay still and quiet until I’m ready to deal with you. Further disruptions have further consequences.”

Ben’s body moves away, chair creaking as he settles back. The keyboard clacks again and she’s torn between thinking _consequences_ sounds quite interesting and that she could probably snooze like this, until with a rough tug at her waistband her backside is exposed to the air.

She can’t help chirping in surprise around her thumb, or squirming as his hand spans and caresses her cheeks.

“Oh little girl, I warned you.”

The sound of his disapproving tongue again.

The first smack catches her unprepared, which gives reason for the one that follows. A shock of heat to each cheek, prickling with what’s likely the imprint of his hand.

It’s better than her curiosity ever led her to expect, pain and pleasure; she has to bite her thumb to hold back a moan.

“This is where you’d say _thank you Daddy_ if you were a good girl,” admonishes Ben, typing something one-handed while soothing over her throbbing skin. “But you can’t, can you? Nod for me. Nod _thank you Daddy_.”

She knocks her chin against the wood, her response is so rapid.

Ben’s laugh is low, with an edge to it.

“You have two options baby. I can pull up your little shorts and you can stay where you are, not helping, waiting for me to finish up. You just won’t come today. Or tomorrow either. And you can’t do it yourself, can you?”

He waits, waits until a whine escapes her, eager to hear the rest of it.

Two smacks this time.

“It smarts huh. _Or_ you can take your punishment for being mouthy, let’s say ten more spanks because you’re new to this. Then you can hop back on my lap, be good, follow _all_ my instructions, and maybe you’ll get to come.”

A further gush between her legs makes her decision.

The counting – his – is oddly calming as he doles them out, each contact between his palm and her skin a sharp crack before he kneads the offended area.

The throb builds, she’s so wet. Her nipples rub against her shirt with each jolt atop the table.

At the tenth she barely registers his praise or being pulled back into his lap, her blurry eyes wiped of tears.

Her seat is a pleasant, tender ember and she’s about to wriggle to enjoy just how little his sweatpants hide when two fingers run down between her folds, sliding inside without preamble.

She huffs through her nostrils in lieu of noise as Ben pumps his hand.

“ _Dripping_ , sweetness. I think my bratty baby liked that. My pants are going to need to go straight into the wash, you’re making them messy. Making more chores for yourself. I got so hard watching your peachy little ass turn red, thinking about all the other things I’d like to do to it.”

Her cunt clenches and he chuckles, kissing her temple. “Hmm I felt that. You’ve added to my idea.”

And he’s nothing if not committed when it comes to executing a plan.

This is how she ends up with his little finger circling her tightly furled hole lower down, slick thanks to the lube he collected from his bedroom.

It’s a pleasurable tickle, just like the first time he rubbed her here. But now with instructions that if she wants to come, it will be like this.

“There we go,” he tells her in a low, velvet murmur as he eases in his finger. The intrusion, the pressure is far easier than she expects, especially considering Ben’s pinkie feels not dissimilar in scale to her thumb.

She’s safe here with him. Safe to try this.

“You’re doing so well, never been filled before baby. _Fuck_. Relax, that’s it let me in. Not so petulant anymore huh? Keep sucking your thumb and don’t speak, but you can make noises if you need to.”

The relieved whine that bursts out of her turns into a groan at the sensation as he begins to rub through her wall against his two fingers in her cunt.

A slow torture, never speeding up, and his chest shakes with silent laughter at her reaction as his other hand returns to filling the grocery cart.

“You got me thinking: your cunt has been very good at telling me what you like in other areas. Let’s see if it can be more tractable here than the rest of you.”

It feels vaguely obscene, her sounds growing pitchy amidst sloppy noises as he crooks his fingers, zeroing in on her newly enjoyed g-spot and humming to himself while deciding between imported butters.

"Garlic or Kaminoan sea salt? I like the garlic but the salt is versatile. Hmm... Oh no, you can't answer me can you baby?"

She catches his grin as she turns her head into his shoulder, burying the fist stoppering her mouth and quivering around him, slicking up his palm. “Okay, good idea: both then.”

He’s having a right old time playing between her legs. Keeping her pinned with his arm across her belly when her hips flex, seeking more. 

She clenches at a pricey Corellian air cake she’s eyed up in bakery windows, so it gets added. A soft Rylothian cheese she saw on a cooking show.

He selects another from Naboo he says is tart and crumbly, together with fancy crackers and olives. Far more vegetables than she’d ever choose herself, choice cuts of meat.

She learns Ben occasionally allows an artisanal dark chocolate and whiskey ice-cream past the bouncers of the temple that is his body. To party it up amidst the nutritious roughage and those protein shakes.

By the time he adds more bath salts and a purple, smaller sized, replacement toothbrush that’s clearly not for him, there’s not enough space in her head to be huffy about the latter.

The combination of being edged while provided with food... it's like Ben took a peek inside her psyche, at a deep – and if she’s honest, scarred – animal part wanting a mate who will provide for a long winter, and never let her go without.

Her mind has nestled itself down into a place less rational and more fuzzy, where anything that almost wants to be mad about being so exposed is drowned out.

It's a revelation. He’s tapped into her voracious appetites. Built a scaffolding from both his tutelage and his big body encircling her to overhaul what she thought she knew about herself.

When Ben speaks again it’s over her sniffles and increasingly desperate whining, and she’d be more impressed at how he keeps his demeanour impassive if it didn’t hurt, how much she needs to come.

How _almost close enough_ she is.

It’s consoling that he must be uncomfortable too, staying rock hard throughout.

“So what do we think, better or still bratty?” he murmurs placidly, nipping at her fabric-covered shoulder. She sucks harder on her thumb, willing him to give her relief and push her over the edge.

“I think… my baby girl behaved herself enough in the end. And you were very good about your chores today. I want to feel you come _here_ —” he thrusts his little finger— “too. So play with your clit and your cute tits. Have a pretty little orgasm for me while I finish up.”

She almost sobs.

It doesn’t take long.

The first touch of her fingers is near-electric against her swollen clit.

The spark ignites as soon as she starts to roll her nipple for a fourth point of sensation.

_You’re being so good_ , she hears, his voice like the smoked honey he selected to pair with fruit. _So wet, so small_. _Fuck, these greedy little holes. I’m always thinking about your cunt, your mouth, your sweet little ass_.

Keyboard taps give over entirely to the wet squelches of his hand and finally he tells her, "Now my baby won’t have an empty belly. All done."

_Done_ , because he’s just confirmed his purchase of these outrageously expensive things.

A buzzing in her ears, his teeth scraping at her neck and a sharp suck, and this is when she comes.

Undone.

With a moan that starts low in her gut and her legs kicking out, shaking off her shorts entirely. With her tightest little muscle pulsing around his pinkie.

Her orgasm rips though her and for a second her vision whites before colours pop behind her eyelids.

His chest rumbles as he draws it out, the long contractions she’s so recently learned to crave.

Ben licks off his fingers that were in her cunt like they’re his ice-cream, with shining eyes.

There’s something about opening her soft centre to him, being his plaything, that turns her insides to slush.

**************

Rey slides to her knees in front of him and Ben’s first reaction is that he’s messed up, dropped her when she’s not recovered enough to be steady.

He’s about to pull her back, to apologise, until she turns with fixed attention on the damp bulge in his sweatpants and pulls off her borrowed t-shirt.

“Please can I... _may_ I suck your cock Daddy? I haven't done it before, but I want to. For you."

She blinks up at him, adorable and stripped bare, in more ways than one. Determined.

His thoughts contract. Her taste is still on his tongue.

“I guess I was practising on my thumb. But it’s _so_ much smaller.”

Now this look, little grin included, is far from artless.

The animal sort of grunt is his, he realises, and his fumbling fingers at his waistband and tugging up his shirt belie any dominant indifference.

It’s hard to have when he’s half convinced Rey might blip out of existence.

His dick bobs heavily, slick at the tip like it’s drooling at her. It’s only fitting.

“G-Good—” he clears his throat, inhales hard through his nostrils and tries again— “Good girls try to swallow. Are you a good girl now?”

“Yes Daddy. I want you to be the first. I’ll be good.”

If he can feel his own eye twitch this violently, she can definitely see it.

Rey’s fingers don’t quite meet around his cock and when she takes her first, tentative lick over the beading precum at his slit, he throws his head back with a shaky, " _Oh fuck_."

The contrast of her more delicate body to his always has the capacity to unravel him, and like this, naked between his legs, it really feels like he’s looming over her. More than usual.

Rey watches his abdominals contract with a smile still playing at her lips, tilting her head when she licks them like she’s considering the taste but doesn’t find it unpleasant.

With each caress of her fingers up and down his shaft and around his foreskin his glute twitches, and he jolts and digs his fingers into his thighs when her tongue pops out again to flick at his glans.

There’s only her, and this, as his eyes stay locked on her movements. As she experimentally takes him just a little her mouth, just exploring.

It’s better for being unpractised. It’s a fucking miracle. He’s forgotten anyone else has ever had their lips around his dick before.

“ _Rey_ , baby, kriff I’m not gonna last. You’re doing so well. F-Feels— feels good.”

She pulls back just enough that her hot breath puffs against the reddened head, rubbing her perfect little breasts against the fabric over his inner thighs.

"I like how you look here Sir. I don’t know if I’ve told you that. You’ve got a pretty cock."

Ben tries not to snort.

"I'm serious." She frowns before dipping back into swipe her tongue over him again. "Soft and hard at the same time, a sexy shape. Can you please tell me how to do this Daddy?"

_First first you're the first she's never_... ricochets like a trapped rubber ball around his brain.

He’s tried to keep his mind as a millpond, has needed to for completing their order before the cut-off.

Fear of failing to provide proved a potent motivator to ignore his throbbing hard-on.

But now, with his gamble over their little grocery game having paid off, and her sounds when she’d come playing on loop— how her ass had felt tightening around his finger, and the dream he’d had the other night about fucking her mouth— 

It’s as if she’s hefted a rock dead centre of him and he can only think in waves and ripples of _mine_ and _cherish_ and _keep_ and _fuck_.

“Lick your hand,” he groans. “Stroke me at the base. Take me as deep as you comfortably can, try to breathe through your nose. That’s it, good girl, just—"

He emits a broken noise as her warm, soft mouth swallows him half-way down and she sucks hard, her face bulging in a way that might just break his brain, her free hand moving to cup and stroke his balls.

She’s done a little research, then.

On each bob of her head her throat contracts, the little gags giving a terrible, delicious sort of pleasure— just like in that dream— and stirring images of her training to take all of him.

Trails of saliva form at her lips, shiny strings to his cock when she gasps and pulls back to catch her breath.

“I’m close baby… so good,” he rasps out, pushing his fingers through her hair and encouraging her back down with a touch of firmness.

His hands seem so much bigger against her, twitching as he holds himself back from taking fistfuls. A reminder to be gentle as he begins to tilt his hips in shallow thrusts; to make this first time one she wants to repeat.

Pressure builds in his abdomen, in the base of his cock.

He’s slack-jawed, at the eager light behind her watering eyes as she glances up. At her letting him take care of her. At the stretched, wet suction of her little mouth.

The burst of pleasure catches him off-guard, even after what he’d said. Like he’s a teenager again, like he’s not the age he is.

His hips jerk against her face with the force of it, as he comes and comes in heavy spurts to the back of her throat.

"Oh _f_ — Good fucking girl," he grunts, cradling Rey’s head in place as she splutters for a moment before her throat works. A wrinkle in her nose at the volume and bitter tang, no doubt.

It was a lot… to the extent a barely conscious part of his brain almost feels bad. But she’s obedient and very determined.

When he lets her draw back from his dick with a wet pop she’s a vision. Mussed, pink-cheeked, with a pearlescent dribble running over her swollen bottom lip.

Breathing as hard as he is. A sated, gleeful look in her eye.

"Perfect baby girl. My sunshine. Just… perfect. Show me your tongue."

Through half-lidded eyes he watches as she proudly does. Before he needs to pull her back into his lap with arms like jelly, tucking himself away in a daze and catching the drip on his thumb.

Perhaps he should be horrified at how he feels smearing that same digit across her cheek, at this impulse to always find a way to mark her.

But her little fingers grabbing his hand cut off the thought, and it vanishes when she sucks him clean.

_Every hole. Every first of hers I can have, every place I can fill._

He’s ravenous for it. Tasting himself when he kisses her, pressing his hands to the jumping pulse points in her neck as their heart-rates slow together.

* * *

“Did you get close to yellow at any point?”

It takes Rey two blinks when she raises her chin to comprehend and shake her head.

A little action releasing some of his familiar worry creeping in, that _Ben Solo is always too much_.

They’re lying on the sofa, her in his holey jumper on him, beneath her blanket, and his hand rubbing circles up and down her spine. From the unfocussed look— and the little yawn— she might have briefly fallen asleep.

For once Ben can’t care that his intended short break from work has turned extended. It’s difficult to peel his hands away from her body so he doesn’t try, and worth overheating.

“So you liked it? The bactabalm will stop any bruising, but if—”

“ _Ben_ , yes. Really. My jaw’s a little achy.” Her sly look incites a valiant twitch from his cock, and yeah, her voice is roughened too. “But I liked it a lot. All of it, I feel good.”

_Will she ever stop surprising me?_

“What about you, how are you feeling now?”

The question makes him pause. He can’t remember being asked this for a long time.

_So that’s a no, then._

“I couldn’t be better. Having a scene go well like that, and with you, it’s what I always want. Exactly what I need. I feel… re-balanced.”

“Yeah?” Another question, and Rey stops nuzzling at his chest to prop up and really look at him in considering hazel. Like she wants a deeper understanding.

Maybe he should let her.

"There were a few years where I was not a caring person." The strands of her hair are soft in his hands, as he stares over her shoulder.

"Korriban?"

"Yes. Don’t worry, I definitely wasn’t having sex a lot there,” he huffs, “only screwing myself up.”

“That's where... that's where I got this scar. Such a stupid reason for a big thing too. One of my angry door slams that were commonplace, alongside punching occasional walls. But it was an old glass door, it slammed back.”

He rolls his jaw against the memory of a splintering crash and searing heat, and what followed. “I quit from the hospital when my boss— my emergency contact— just laughed and said evidently I hadn’t stopped being weak. He wanted me back in the office the next day. I called my parents for the first time in… far too long. I was a mess.”

Once the words are out he almost can’t believe he’s told her these terrible things so casually rather than simplifying an answer.

Until her arm creeps down his side to hold him, and it’s not so terrifying.

His chest rises and falls, focussed, in and out. No judgment follows— a kiss like a blessing, instead, to the silvered reminder on his jaw— so he keeps going.

“When I wasn’t speaking to my family... _Elders’ sakes_ , my grandparents could have passed during that time, or my parents, anything could have happened.”

He shudders, only a small thing, but her arm tightens. Not pushing. Not scared away. Just listening to whatever he gives.

“Like I told you on our drive here, I didn’t like the person I became. I realised I’d nearly lost myself and everything that was really important to me.”

“So, to answer your question, when I’m doing this I can give pleasure while also exploring the darker parts of myself that enjoy control and power. I can let go a bit _and_ give care as well. Where there's mutual trust and parameters I feel safe, and if I couldn’t have that, if it made me actually feel broken again, I think I’d rather go vanilla.

“To be honest I’ve still tried to maintain distance as a dom, before. But this intimacy, with you, it… it’s new and it makes it even better.”

When he looks again a line has formed between Rey’s brows above the ghosts of her freckles. Not a negative expression but rather like she’s considering, with a lot to take in.

"So it’s healing. I think it is for me too but it probably wouldn’t be if it was more impersonal, I like _this_ specifically. I’m sorry you were so hurt. And I’m proud of you, for leaving that job and making huge changes. You _are_ a good person, Ben. You’re a good dom, a good daddy. A good boyfriend.”

“So far,” he adds on a self-depreciating laugh, through a throat choked up by her high opinion.

“Don’t you talk about my boyfriend like that!” she grouses, lightly headbutting his chin until she’s satisfied by his laughter, which is probably more from shock at such acceptance. “Hey, thank you for telling me all this. Darling."

The endearment seems unfamiliar in Rey’s mouth, as if she’s trying out the shape of it; the ways in which he can be hers.

Maybe he should tell her it fits perfectly in his chest, with just the right amount of squeeze.

"Little borcatu, you’re magnificent,” Ben murmurs, blinking rapidly against the pressure behind his eyes as she snuggles down with a hum.

“Grandpa Anakin and Yiayia Padmé gave me this apartment when I returned from Korriban. They were so happy I made my way back, their only grandchild. I— my grandfather especially felt like he'd failed me somehow. He’d also struggled with anger when he was younger. But it wasn't their fault. I know that’s why yiayia worries a lot still, about food and the weather and everything."

He breathes out a shaky lungful, upon this flow of information he usually doesn’t share.

"They probably just wish they could have supported you more. They sound really lovely."

Her voice holds a wistful note that brings with it such a clear vision of her with his family, in Naboo.

"Yeah. Yeah they are."

_And they'll love her._

* * *

**************

The delivery is more mundane than Rey expects, her anticipation having built for anything new with nothing external going on.

Anticipation too for the sort of salt and vinegar crisps that are _head-popping acidic_ , as she’d told Ben excitedly that morning while pinching his sleepy cheeks. He’d rolled on her to smother her chattering.

Ben bundles her up in jumper, scarf, and one of his coats like a woolly tauntaun, fretting and gripping her hand down to the lobby where Mr Ackbar makes jolly and somewhat smug conversation.

Her Hothstorm protector unwraps himself from around her begrudgingly, but presses extra wads of credits into the civil defence workers’ exposure-suited hands.

At the doorway to Gial’s apartment he tugs down Ben’s shoulder, to whisper something that causes Ben to blush and set down the admiral’s last two bags rather quickly.

The invitation to dinner tomorrow though, Rey hears, along with their assignment of dessert (she accepts happily but bless the man’s assumption not only Ben can cook).

No amount of needling makes Ben disclose the rest as they defrost, sorting their own groceries with tingling hands. But he’s smiling with palpable relief at their renewed stocks when he retaliates by placing her cereals on a high shelf.

Despite the lockdown being the reason for this domesticity it’s a comfortable, addictive type of happiness.

“I’m looking forward to catching some _Reys_ when this is over, seeing you freckle up again,” Ben teases by her side in the kitchen, preparing his yiayia’s avgolemono soupa for dinner.

She squeezes a lemon with a laughing sort of sigh (not neatly, but most of the juice gets where she wants it) and he strains the tip-yip’s stock before ripping into it with apparently heat-proof hands.

The promise of a new culinary experience pales in comparison to the feeling she gets from his enthusiasm for sharing such things. This dish’s origin isn’t a surprise, given that emotional conversation after their last major scene.

The one she’s felt more protective of him since.

Rey bumps his hip. “Can’t believe I thought you barely spoke. Now I’ve got you talking you’re not going to shut up, are you?”

"Oh I've got more _Daddy_ jokes where that came from."

She groans in response and a happy noise pulls out of his chest that she tucks away in hers. “I like that you're smiling more, Mr Dimples."

"Ah. _That_ name, I hate, for the record. But I like having a reason to."

Dinner is delicious. Ben’s satisfaction at her wanting seconds is amplified when she lets him stand behind her to braid while she finishes her first.

A plait of the front of her hair, curving over her head. While he says he just likes touching her and needs the practice, she doesn't miss the possessive satisfaction written on his face when it’s completed.

Any questions that arise about this _thing_ of his evaporate when her phone buzzes against the stone table.

“Oh, Rosie! We’re due for a chat, her renderings weren’t playing ball yesterday so she couldn’t. Um…”

Ben moves to refill her bowl and smiles. “Go, I’m done anyway. There’s a whiskey with my name on it. Give your aerospace engineer my best, I’ll tidy up.”

But a sweet man who remembers the details of her life gets a kiss first.

Not so sweet is the state of her old room.

Boxes still spilling contents. The same mess. With a grimace she kicks a discarded wrapper and a flattened snack box under the bed, pulling up the crumpled duvet to sit with her laptop.

There’s a limit to the cleaning she can stomach in a short amount of time, and Ben said he wouldn’t come in here.

Rey gets half-way through her questions about Rose’s work before she turns her head and her friend spies something forgotten, shoving all other topics aside.

“Wow,” Rose whistles low, eyebrows shooting up toward her hairline. “Look at that hickie. Bet there’s more where that came from. Finally, a result we can all celebrate!”

Rey coughs around a spoonful of soup, fingers flitting to her hoodie’s neckline before dropping. “Cocking shitballs, I forgot.”

Rose cackles. "Manfridge is either a vampire or he was hella pent up. Good – _and I cannot stress this enough_ – for you. Is this where I get to say I told you so?”

Rey pokes out her tongue with a mouth half-full, making a mess. “I wanted to tell you like this, not in text.”

“Babe it’s fine. _So_..?”

"Bloody amazing. Uh, in all ways."

Rose nods her head decisively, a not infrequent railer against selfish lovers.

"We're together, officially. He didn't want something casual.”

“Oh of course he didn't, that’s great!”

“It might go tits up but so far it’s been incredible. I dunno if I’ll get use to it.”

“Don’t be like that, you deserve it all. And now I don't have to kick his ass.”

Rey can picture it. Rose would win.

"There's something you want to ask, right?" Rose continues, wry and knowing, watching Rey pick at her cuff.

"Yeah,” Rey snorts. “So he is... _kinky_ , like how you thought, and—"

" _Vindicated_! I kriffing knew it, I have a gift! If I ever get sick of engineering I'm going to become a private investigator, handle my own group of spies."

"Let me know when you're done," Rey huffs.

Rose waves an airy hand. "Sure, sure. Continue. But don’t think I’ve forgotten you owe _me_ those snacks now. I’m really leaning into eating and lounging, any muscles I had are saying so long and farewell."

"Hard agree. Ben wants to buy me stuff too. Part of me loves the idea and part of me is a bit freaked out.”

"Right, so he's rich and he's dominant, of course he will. Find _me_ one— well without the dominant part— when this is over. I think I’m ready for something more serious.”

“We will, only the best for Rosie. He’s starting out smaller, fancy groceries so far. He explained why he likes it, which makes sense to me."

"But he _is_ going to want to buy you bigger things when we’re all released again." Rose voices Rey’s hopes and fears and memory of _allowance_ with an understanding tone.

"Try to let yourself enjoy it babe, you've got half your lifetime's worth of presents to make up for at the very least. You deserve it. You can make good choices, like supporting local designers you admire. It doesn't have to be mindless right. And you can get things you really need, you won't have as many expenses when you're back at uni."

Rey hums. These are options she hadn’t considered.

"Is it that... you think you don't deserve it? It makes you feel vulnerable." As usual Rose has salient observations borne of long familiarity. Rey chews over her words, running her spoon around her empty bowl.

It’s probably a mixture of both, her reservations. This type of generosity and Ben’s world is unfamiliar.

Rose purses her lips after a quiet minute. "Can we get Kay and Pae-Pae in on this? They've got something relevant."

At a nod Rose dips away from the screen. A door opens in the background with muffled voices, before she returns with two in tow.

Kaydel leans over her shoulder, pale cheeks flushed with interest, as Paige manoeuvres in her powerchair.

"Hey you, nice hair," the older sister observes with a grin of perfectly lacquered lilac lips, flicking her black high ponytail away from her face.

“How’re you both holding up?” Rey asks. “How’s your food stocks?” “Surviving, and getting repetitive. Out of condensed milk so my coffee sucked this morning."

“She was _grum-_ py.” Kaydel makes a face before dodging a poke to her side.

“I make no apologies. So you've finally stopped dancing around the guy you're staying with."

"And Ben wants to _buy_ her things on the regular," adds Rose with a feral grin. “The D-word. Because I’m working on the assumption you _have_ said it Reyrey.”

Rey’s cheeks start to heat but mercifully Kaydel nods rapidly. “Enjoy! I did. On a contract arrangement for a few years."

She says this without a hint of embarrassment, brushing back whisps of her messy blonde topknot.

Kaydel begins gesticulating. "I don't often talk about being a sugar baby because people need to pay me to listen to their regressive sex work opinions, but no regrets. Your situation sounds different obviously, but it was fun. Why shouldn't I have made the most of it if they wanted to spend their cash? It let me study with barely any loans. Selling the gifts afterward gave a nice financial buffer too."

Illuminating, regarding what contracts can be. And why Ben was so eager to get ahead of any assumptions. 

"Wealth redistribution baby. A few ritzy handbags helped pay for my sweet upgrade," remarks Paige with a dry laugh, patting her purple armrest.

"I only stopped because I met someone and got mushy.” Kaydel bumps her hip against the side of Paige's chair and they give each other a private, smiling look.

Once Rey would have twinged with something a little bitter and shameful seeing it, but now... there’s not that same sense of missing out. 

This feeling follows her through the conversation and while she stands in the hall archway for a few moments afterward, watching Ben relaxed on the sofa nursing a tumbler and a book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much appreciation as always for support 💜
> 
> [Loth-wolf](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Loth-wolf)  
>  [Chandrilan grappaberries](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Chandrilan_grappaberry)  
>  [Air cake](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Air_cake)  
> Twi'lek have French accents in Clone Wars so [Ryloth](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ryloth) is Space France afaic.  
> Thanks to [earis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earis/pseuds/earis) for the comment suggesting avgolemono soupa (a while ago now...). I made it just the other day finally, very recommended (even though it’s warm & humid weather here, I assume it’s even better in winter).
> 
> I've never had a beta so if I’ve forgotten anything important about these characters in the interim… oops. I’m trying to be less neurotic about editing too, to see if that makes things a bit more enjoyable for me.


End file.
